Through Times Of War
by Anna B. the Greek
Summary: Post HBP. The Order of the Phoenix is working against the Death Eaters. Harry, Ron and Hermione must destroy the Horcruxes. Snape is subtly trying to sabotage Voldemort, while keeping Draco and Narcissa safe. All canon pairings. Chapter 15 up.
1. Teaser

**Author's notes:**

This story takes off right after the end of Book 6 and follows a multitude of characters, particularly focusing on the Order members, the Trio, Snape, Draco and Narcissa. It is a standalone story that you can follow without any problem at all, as everything will be explained properly in due time. However, some of the backstory is developed in my previous fic The Journey Of The Phoenix, a story parallel to Book 6, so this serves as a sequel of sorts for those who have read it.

It's going to be a very long story; I'm currently working on chapter 16 and the end is nowhere near. I will try to post regularly, a chapter every other week or so. Sorry if this update rate is a little slow, but I don't want to run out of buffer.

Genre: Drama/Action/Adventure, but also includes angst, romance and some light-hearted, humorous moments.

Pairings: All canon pairings. You'll see a lot of Bill/Fleur and Remus/Tonks. Ron/Hermione and Harry/Ginny will develop later on.

Warnings: If you've read the title, you know what to expect.

Thankies:

- To Fauzia, my Beta-Reader.

- To José, my test subject :D

- To everyone who read, reviewed, and helped me with The Journey Of The Phoenix.

- To everyone on Livejournal who reads my ramblings on this story.

**Disclaimer: **Everything you recognise belongs to J.K. Rowling, including characters, settings, plotlines and quotes. The story is based on characters and facts described in her Harry Potter series. However, the development of anything that appears in there indirectly, as well as the creation and development of anything that does not appear in there at all, is my own work, created by combining information from the books, speculation from various sources and my own conclusions and ideas.

Please read and review. Any comments of any nature (even on typos!) will be very welcome. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna.

P.S.: I promise I'll keep my author's notes shorter from now on :D

-----

**-Chapter 1: Teaser-**

Minerva McGonagall stood by the window in the Headmaster's office, absently gazing at the summer blue sky. Below her, the thestral-harnessed carriages were travelling in a row, taking the students to the Hogsmeade train station, perhaps for the last time.

The last time. It was a thought she had pondered over and over during the past few days. It was, admittedly, far from appealing, and yet... seemed like the right thing to do. If the Death Eaters had now teachers and students among their ranks, if they could invade the castle, if they could get to the Headmaster and kill him... what else was left?

It had only been a few days since she had taken over the position of Headmistress, but the problems she had had to face were, to put it simply, huge. Even leaving that subject aside, there were too many things to be settled. She had had to deal with terrified kids, hysterical parents, an anxious but hardly helpful Ministry of Magic, plus make arrangements for Dumbledore's funeral and take care of the ordinary errands that were the Headmaster's responsibility. Not to mention, the morale of the Order of the Phoenix was torn in pieces, and although the members hadn't given up on their efforts, they lacked the confidence that the guidance of a strong leader gave them. She lacked that confidence, too; after all, Albus Dumbledore had always been near her, at first as a teacher, later as a colleague, and afterwards as the Hogwarts Headmaster and the Order of the Phoenix leader. She had blind trust in him and never doubted his advice; just like everyone else in his circle did, after all.

_Maybe that was our mistake, _she thought for the hundredth time since the day he had been gone. _He was betrayed from the inside, we were all there and yet we didn't see it coming._

She wiped a tear away and tried to concentrate on something more mundane. His personal belongings were still there. She had been using this office for days, but hadn't had the time or the courage to go through them and sort them out. Knowing Dumbledore, everything would be organised in his own very non-organised way, messed up and yet _exactly _where and how he wanted it. McGonagall had never managed to understand this; unless it was compulsively neat and obsessively arranged, it was not good enough for her. But it was a job she finally had to face.

She sat on the chair and opened the top drawer of the desk. In it there was a pile of parchments. She took out the first one, a short letter in Dumbledore's handwriting.

_To whom it may concern:_

_By the time this letter will be read, I will be dead. With this, I wish to settle some matters I had not taken care of until now._

_I shall start with the paperwork stored in this desk. The part of it which is not protected concerns the school and should stay with the next Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts. The part of it which is under the Order protection spell concerns the Order of the Phoenix. I wish that Minerva McGonagall, or, if she is not in the position to, another member of the Order, takes care of it._

_Everything else material in this room is to stay in the school, property of the next Headmaster or Headmistress, should they choose to keep it, except for the Pensieve which is stored in the cabinet beside the door. The Pensieve is to stay with Harry Potter, and has been charmed so that he now is the only one able to open and use it._

_Fawkes is free to live anywhere and with anyone he wishes._

_Regarding my will, it can be found in my Gringotts vault, number 110. The key to my vault can be found in the bottom drawer of this desk._

_Finally, I would like to say goodbye to all my friends, and apologise to everyone I might have hurt._

_Thank you for your time._

_Albus Dumbledore. _

McGonagall let out a sigh. It was strange how reading this letter made her feel his presence so close to her. She couldn't help but wonder, what was he thinking when writing this letter? Had he felt his end approaching?

Come to think of it... _when _had he written this letter? There was not a date marker at the top. For all she knew, it could have been years, and yet it seemed recent... as if it only dated minutes before that awful moment...

Not that it made any difference one way or another.

She glanced at the letter again. _The Pensieve is to stay with Harry Potter... _who had just left the Hogwarts grounds. Talk about timing.

She turned towards the portraits on the wall. "Martin, could you please let Filch know that I need an owl?"

"Certainly, Minerva," a black-haired, bearded wizard said and left his portrait.

-----

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Hogwarts Express and found an empty compartment just for the three of them. The boys made to stow their luggage, when they saw Hermione open her trunk and retrieve her Arithmancy book, a piece of parchment, a quill and ink.

"Hermione?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Don't be silly," she said before closing her trunk. "I just want to write to my parents. Tell them not to come pick me up from Kings Cross."

Harry stared at her, befuddled. "Why not?"

"We're going to your aunt's house, remember?"

He gaped at her for a moment, then his eyes turned to Ron, who was casually taking care of his and his friends' trunks. Once done, Ron looked at Harry with a grin.

Harry finally found his voice. "So when you said you two are coming with me, you meant...?"

"Of course, mate," Ron said.

Harry's eyes flew helplessly from him to Hermione. "But..."

"You agreed to that a few minutes ago," Hermione said.

"I know! It's just... The Dursleys hardly tolerate me as it is. If I bring my friends over, they'll be sure to kick me out. And I can't risk that. Dumbledore wanted me to go back one last time."

"They're not going to kick you out," Ron said with a mischievous smirk.

Harry raised an inquiring eyebrow at him.

"Hermione and I are adults now, remember?"

Harry's eyes widened as realisation dawned. Ron and Hermione were adults... legally able to perform magic...

"The Dursleys won't have a choice," the red-headed boy said, confirming his friend's unspoken thoughts.

Harry looked over at Hermione. The expression on her face matched Ron's perfectly.

He felt touched. Granted, putting up with the Dursleys was nothing in comparison to the ordeals that lay ahead of them... finding Voldemort's Horcruxes, destroying them... facing him in a life or death battle... and yet, they wanted to be there with him. They wanted to support him all the way, now that he had this huge weight on his shoulders... they didn't want to leave him on his own. Not for a moment.

A smile full of gratitude slowly formed on his lips. "Thank you."

They heard the Hogwarts Express whistle signalling the departure of the train and settled down on their seats. Hermione placed the book on her lap and the parchment on the book and started writing. Harry made to open the window and the moment he did, a brown owl hastily flew in and he felt something hard hit his forehead.

"Ow! What the...?" He caught the bird and noticed a familiar object tied to its legs: Dumbledore's Pensieve.

He released it and the bird flew away. Harry watched it for a second, then turned his attention back to the stone basin and noticed there was a piece of parchment glued on it. As his friends turned their attention to him, he read the short notes:

_From this moment onwards, this Pensieve belongs to Harry Potter, along with the memories stored inside. It is charmed so that he is the only one who can see inside it. I trust that these memories will help him see things as they are, and not as they seem._

_Albus Dumbledore._

And right below it:

_I just found it in the Headmaster's office, with the note glued on it._

_Minerva McGonagall._

"...These memories will help him see things as they are, and not as they seem?" Ron read over Harry's shoulder, wonder in his voice. "What d'you reckon he means?"

Harry studied the Pensieve closely. "I don't know. I guess there's only one way to find out."

"Not here," Hermione advised. "It's not the right place."

"You're right."

Harry rose, retrieved his trunk and stored the Pensieve inside. He would deal with it in due time.

-----

When they arrived at Kings Cross, they saw from the window Arthur Weasley, Molly and their twin sons waiting for them. Ron helped Ginny with her trunk and together with Harry and Hermione approached them.

"Hello, Harry, Hermione," Molly said. "Come on, George, give Ron a hand..."

"Mother..." Ron started.

Molly looked up at him, alarmed.

"I'm not coming home."

For a moment, nobody spoke. The gravity in Ron's words revealed he had already chosen his path. No amount of pleading or teasing was going to make him change his mind.

"Where are you going?" Arthur asked quietly.

Hermione took a step closer to Ron and spoke. "We're going with Harry."

Molly contemplated this for a second, then, with unusual strength, approached Ron and kissed his forehead. "Be careful." She turned to the two teenagers standing by him. "You both, too."

"Good luck," Arthur wished. The twins and Ginny murmured some wishes as well.

"We'll see you at Bill's wedding," Ron said and gestured to his friends to leave. Together they went through the barrier leading from platform nine and three-quarters to the exit, where they spotted the Dursleys waiting by their car.

"Thank you for accompanying him," Vernon Dursley told Ron and Hermione when the three teenagers approached, in a supposedly nice attempt to shoo them.

"They're coming with us," Harry stated.

Vernon narrowed his already small eyes in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

"They're coming with us."

"And what makes you think -"

"It is just for a few weeks. Come July, we'll all leave and you'll never see us again."

Vernon pondered that for a while. He studied Hermione's severe face, then turned to Ron, who had pulled out his wand and was playing it on his fingers as if to warn him.

"They'll stay in my room," Harry continued. "All they'll cost you is two more plates of food every day."

Vernon glanced over at Petunia, who nodded in defeat, understanding that they couldn't afford to decline, and Dudley, who looked positively terrified at the thought of two more wizards in his house. Then, the man turned back to the three teenagers. "All right. Get in."

"If you'll allow me..."

Petunia could hardly suppress a shriek when Hermione pulled out her wand and enchanted the three trunks, making them small enough to fit in the car's trunk. Once the trunks were stowed in, everyone boarded the car and left for Little Whinging.

**-End of chapter 1-**


	2. Down Memory Lane

Thank you for reading chapter 1.

Here is chapter 2. I'm posting sooner than I said I would post, because... well, the first chapter was just a teaser ;)

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapter.

Thankies: Again, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :)

Please read and review. Any comments of any nature (even on typos!) will be very welcome. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna.

-----

**-Chapter 2: Down memory lane-**

Harry's room in the house at number four, Privet Drive was small, but enough for him, Ron and Hermione. When they arrived, Hermione charmed all the broken toys and devices that were piled in the room to fit in the closet, then the three of them put their trunks together in a corner and moved the bed in line with the wall, so as to leave an empty space where they could practice magic during the day and lay a blanket to sleep on at night. Despite the insistent complaints from both Ron and Hermione, Harry made them agree on alternating nights in the bed. That settled, he locked the door, retrieved the Pensieve and sat on the bed, where his friends joined him.

For a moment, he watched the memories swirl around in the basin, silently wondering what was waiting for him, then pulled out his wand and lightly tapped on it. A memory of the Hogwarts Great Hall surfaced.

"I'm going in."

"Good luck," Ron and Hermione wished.

Harry took a deep breath and brought his face close to the Pensieve, letting himself get immersed in the memory. After a short fall, he found himself standing in the Great Hall, beside the Slytherin table. On the chair right in front of him was seated a teenage version of Severus Snape, and next to him, a girl with long, blond hair – Draco's mother, Narcissa. She and Snape were conversing, and Harry drew closer to listen.

"For example," Snape was saying, "the Forgetfulness Potion requires two drops of orange juice and lasts for twenty-four hours exactly. If you use lemon juice instead, which is akin to orange but more drastic, you will need one drop only and the potion will last about twice as long."

"But won't there be any side-effects?"

"Of course. There are always side-effects when we tamper with potions this way, sometimes for our benefit, sometimes not. In the case of Forgetfulness Potion, for example, using lemon juice can cause nausea. So, in order to avoid this, you need something to partly neutralise it. Tea leaves are known to absorb acids and are quite neutral in potions, so if you add some, you will avoid nausea. However, you will have to take care of how you handle them. It is recommended that you chop them before adding them..."

Harry frowned. He doubted that Dumbledore had wanted him to see this memory in order to hear some potion-making tips. He looked around, wondering what could be of significance in here, and straight ahead of him, by the back wall of the room, he saw his father and his friends sitting in the Gryffindor table. With one last glance at the two Slytherins, he rushed towards them.

"Come on, Remus, eat something," Sirius was saying, pushing a forkful of pasta towards his friend's mouth.

Lupin leaned back on his chair to avoid the fork, mouth firmly shut, shaking his head. Harry noticed he looked pale and ill and assumed the full moon was approaching.

"Remus, seriously," James said in annoyance. "You need a full stomach for the transformation, or you will be eating out your flesh again tonight."

"What difference does it make? I won't remember any of it anyway, and the wounds will heal themselves when I turn back."

"But you will be suffering the whole night!"

"I can't eat," he insisted. "My stomach is upside down."

"What about some meatballs?" Wormtail offered, holding up the tray. "Wolfie likes meat."

Lupin eyed the meatballs. "Maybe one," he said and picked one. He chewed it reluctantly and gulped it down, then put a hand on his stomach. "Enough."

"Come on, Remus!" they all protested in unison.

"Stop picking on him," a blond girl who was sitting across them said. The boys had been talking in a low voice, but what they had been trying to do was very obvious. "If he doesn't want to eat, he doesn't and that's it."

"No, that's not it." James said, somewhat harshly. "He's sick and he needs to eat. _That's _it."

"Potter cares about somebody's well-being," a redhead sitting a couple of chairs to the left said in a mocking tone. She was sitting with her back at Harry, but he had no trouble recognising his mother's voice. "How touching."

"Glad to hear you think so, Evans," he mocked back, but Harry thought he saw his cheeks redden slightly. He turned to Lupin. "Remus, for the last time... eat something!"

Lupin shook his head again, then glanced at his watch and his eyes widened. "Look at the time! I have to go, Madam Pomfrey will be waiting for me." He hastily rose and made to leave.

"No, no, no!" Sirius exclaimed. "Peter, pass me the meatballs, quick! _Cronorum Imitatio!_"

Half a dozen meatballs rose from the plate and positioned themselves in orbit around Lupin's head. Soon, most of the students had broken into hysterical laughter. A big grin spread on Harry's face. Sirius knew how to make his point clear when he wanted to.

Annoyed, Lupin grabbed one of the meatballs and tried to drop it on the floor, but, instead of falling, it returned back to its orbit.

"The only way you can get rid of them is by eating them," Sirius explained with a self-satisfied smirk.

Exhaling loudly, Lupin sank back on his chair and started eating. He was so intent on finishing quickly and leaving that he didn't notice that Sirius was charming more meatballs around his head. When he caught wind of it, he turned to glare at his friend.

"Don't mind me," Sirius said casually and continued.

Lupin was still eating when Madam Pomfrey barged into the Great Hall and walked towards him with big, hasty steps. "Remus Lupin! Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I'm sorry, Madam Pomfrey, they wouldn't let me go -"

"He hasn't eaten anything in two days!" James protested.

Madam Pomfrey gave Lupin a reprimanding look. "Is that true?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey. But it's not my fault, my stomach is very upset." He lowered his voice and added, "It's because of yesterday's lunar eclipse."

Her face became instantly more sympathetic. "You poor boy. You should have told me, I would have given you a tonic... but we're running late now." She blinked as she noticed the three meatballs that were left revolving around his head. "Take these... things off your head and let us leave."

He nodded and turned to Sirius. Without a word, the black-haired boy waved his wand and made the meatballs return to the plate. Then, Lupin followed Madam Pomfrey outside the room.

Harry wondered whether he should follow them or stay where he was, but then he noticed that Sirius was intently staring somewhere. He followed his gaze and saw Snape watching Lupin and Madam Pomfrey. The moment they left the room, he rose from the table and headed to the door.

"I'll be right back," he heard Sirius say. He then saw Snape go out the door and, for an instant, everything turned to black. When the image returned, he was in the entrance corridor, by Snape's side, while Lupin and Madam Pomfrey were exiting the building. When the door closed, the sallow-faced boy attempted to follow them, but Sirius had caught up with him already.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sirius demanded.

"Why are they going to the Whomping Willow?"

"And how do you know they're going there?"

"I heard them. Why are they going there?"

"Why don't you go see for yourself?"

"You expect me to go near the Whomping Willow?"

Sirius snickered. "Chicken. Anyway, if it's only the tree you're afraid of, take a long stick, press the knot on the trunk and it'll stop moving."

"And why would I believe you?"

"And who told you I care about whether you believe me or not?" Sirius said with a smirk and returned to the Great Hall, leaving a furious Snape behind.

Harry had known about that incident, but had no idea about the details of it. Before he had any time to ponder them, however, the image dissolved and he found himself in a dark passage, again by teenage Snape's side. The boy was holding out his wand to illuminate his path as he walked, and in the dim light of the spell, Harry recognised the passage that lead to the Shrieking Shack. So he was watching Snape follow Sirius's instructions... and he remembered that, any moment now, James would come to save him.

The light at the end of the tunnel was visible, when Snape heard hasty footsteps behind him and turned around to see a faint glow approach. When the figure of James Potter became discernible, Snape turned his back at him and continued his way, but James was soon near him.

"Snape!" He tugged at his robes in an effort to hold him back. "Stop!"

Snape merely pushed him away and continued forward.

"Stop! You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I'm not afraid of your and your friends' little tricks," he said and continued his way.

"_Nox_," James said. Realising that the boy had put out his wand in order to attack him with it, Snape hit him with the Disarming Spell with a swift move. James's wand flew backwards and disappeared in the dark.

Not having another way to keep Snape back, James gave him a violent push and threw him on the floor. Then he made his way to the hole and peered inside.

Harry, thanks of the transparent nature being in the Pensieve granted him, had no problem to swiftly position himself beside his father. He saw James's gaze fall upon Lupin, who was slumped in a corner, obviously in pain. His fists were clenched and his breathing was uneven and heavy.

"Remus, go away!" James yelled. "Get out of that room!"

"I can't..." Lupin breathed, closing his eyes as if he were ready to pass out.

Harry heard Snape's voice call "Accio Potter's wand"; so did James, probably, because he lowered his hand and took a couple of steps down the sloping corridor. Harry followed suit, and there, he saw his father come face to face with Snape; the sallow-faced boy was holding a lit wand in his left hand, and in his right hand, a wand that was aiming directly at James's chest, a smirk on his lips.

"Don't go in there," James warned him.

"Why not?"

A horrific shrill came from inside the Shack; apparently, Lupin's transformation had just begun. James lowered his head to keep it out of Lupin's sight, his expression full of pain and sympathy for his friend, but his eyes flashing with anger as he kept watching Snape.

Snape forgot all about James and stared in shock at the hole, which was just barely visible from where he was standing. "What is going on in there...?"

James turned around to take a glimpse inside the Shack, then leaped at Snape, throwing him to the ground and landing on top of him. Snape, momentarily too stunned for words, just tried to look through the hole – the angle was giving him a better point of view.

James rolled to the side, quickly got to his feet and grabbed Snape by the collar of his robe, dragging him towards Hogwarts.

"Is that a _wolf_?" Snape asked, horror-struck.

"Yes, and unless you shut up he's going to hear you and come right after us!" James hissed.

"Let go of me!" Snape hissed back.

James stopped dragging him for a second and threw him a contemptuous look, then violently pulled Snape's collar upwards. Once forced to his feet, Snape locked eyes with James. The same revulsion was written in both boys' faces.

"Lupin's a werewolf, isn't he," Snape spat.

"Yes, he is," James spat back. "Now move it," he said and shoved him forward.

"Don't touch me!" Snape said, disgusted, as he started to walk. Harry started to follow the boys.

"And give me back my wand," James said and, without waiting for a reaction from Snape, snatched his wand from Snape's left hand.

Snape threw James a look full of hatred and continued his way. James followed him, every so often turning to glance to the back of the corridor, relieved to see that Lupin hadn't gone after them.

"It's lucky his howls covered our voices," he mumbled to himself, once they were safely away from the hole. "We were very close."

Snape ignored that comment; he was busy feeling and massaging his neck. "You almost broke my neck there," he accused James.

"You have the nerve to complain!" James exploded. "You'd be dead if I hadn't come to save your butt!"

"Nobody asked you to," Snape spat.

James threw him a harsh glare. "Don't make me think Sirius was right to send you there. Now get a move on, I don't plan to spend all night in this tunnel."

Snape glared back at him, then continued his way. As Harry made to continue behind the boys, the image dissolved again. This time, he ended up in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore was sitting in his desk, brandishing his wand in a very determined matter. A silver, phoenix-shaped Patronus flashed in and out with every attempt, but the elder man didn't seem to be satisfied.

Someone knocked at the door. Dumbledore made the Patronus disappear and left his wand on the desk. "Enter."

Severus Snape opened the door and entered the room. He was a few years older than in the previous memories, maybe in his early twenties. He looked paler than before and seemed to be trembling. His expression revealed a strange mixture of fear, shame and something Harry never expected to see on Snape's face: guilt.

"Come in, Severus," Dumbledore and offered him a seat. "What brings you here?"

Snape, silent, pulled up his left sleeve and rested his hand on the desk. The Dark Mark was carved on his left wrist.

Dumbledore observed it with a frown. "I was afraid of that, but I hoped I was wrong. I always thought you would know better," he said in that quiet voice that Harry had heard before and knew to be a sign of great disappointment.

Snape lowered his head and spoke, his voice very low. "I told him about the prophecy. He said..." He gulped and looked up again, his eyes wide with urgency. "...It's the Potters, Professor. He wants to kill them."

Dumbledore nodded, looking at Snape concernedly.

"You have to do something, Professor!" Snape pleaded. Harry could not believe his eyes. "You can't let him kill them! James Potter... he... he _saved _me. I owe him."

_It must be an act, _Harry thought. _He can't possibly mean that._

"If it makes you feel better, Severus," Dumbledore said in an unnervingly calm manner, "I promise you I shall alert them as soon as possible. I would not want them to get hurt either."

"Professor, I... he... the Dark Lord... I can't let them get killed..."

"I know, Severus. Calm down, please. I told you I shall take care of it."

"I want to help you too. I can't let him kill them. I will do everything in my power... Professor, let me help you..."

Harry felt a shiver run him over. Snape's remorse, his anxiety, everything seemed so... honest.

"I can't do this anymore..." Snape continued in a broken voice. "All the torturing... the killing... and the Potters... Please, Professor, let me help you, I don't want to stand by his side anymore... You're fighting him... I want to fight by your side. I will take the Unbreakable Vow if you want me to... Please, believe me, Professor. I will do whatever you want. I will follow your command till my last breath."

"I don't want you to take an Unbreakable Vow, Severus," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "All I shall ask you for is your word."

"You have it," Snape said eagerly, a sparkle of hope in his eyes. "I promise you I will stay by your side, Professor. I will do everything I can. I can't let him win."

"I am glad you feel that way, because I have a difficult task for you."

"Anything you want, Professor."

"I need you to be a spy for our side. I want you to pretend you are still a supporter of the Dark Lord and provide me with information about what he is planning."

Snape's face paled even more, if that was possible. Harry was not surprised; spying was far more dangerous than simply switching sides.

"I will, Professor," Snape finally said.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said. "I shall soon be on my way to a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. If you are agreeable, you can join us and take the Order Oath tonight."

Harry never found what happened next because the image changed again. He found himself outside a house he didn't recognise. He looked around, but no one was around – or so he thought, until he heard Snape's voice cast the Muffliato spell.

Confused, he turned towards the direction where the spell had come from. Snape wasn't there... or, at least, not _visibly _so. Could he be under a Disillusionment Charm, or wearing an Invisibility Cloak?

Suddenly, the door opened and Voldemort came out. He closed the door behind him and pulled out his wand, presumably to lock it. Harry heard Snape's voice again, this time performing the Killing Curse. A jet of green light appeared as if from nowhere, passed inches behind Voldemort's back and through Harry's immaterial body. Voldemort turned to see where the curse had come from.

Harry heard only the beginning of a loud crack and was suddenly transferred to Dumbledore's office again. As Dumbledore was going through some paperwork, Harry contemplated the memory he was seeing moments ago, but before he could make any sense out of it someone knocked on the door.

"Enter," Dumbledore called. It was Snape again, and he was carrying an Invisibility Cloak. He closed the door, walked by a chair opposite Dumbledore's and left the cloak on its back.

"I failed," he stated, his tone bitter. "I _missed_."

Dumbledore looked at him sympathetically.

"The Potters are going to die because I was unable to aim properly at a fully grown man, while standing ten feet from him."

Harry detected the heavy load of guilt underneath Snape's even voice and felt sorry for him. He knew the feeling of failure, of letting down those who relied on you, of knowing that if you had done things just a little bit differently, everything would have been so much better...

_What am I doing, pitying Snape? _he suddenly thought and turned his attention to Dumbledore.

"Do not feel bad about it," the elderly wizard was saying. "I warned you that it would not be easy to kill Voldemort. You are lucky you did not end up killed yourself"

"He probably has no idea what happened," Snape mused aloud. "But what are the Potters going to do now?"

"I received a Patronus from them earlier. Apparently, they have decided to seek the protection of the Fidelius Charm."

Snape's expression lightened somewhat, but he noticed Dumbledore wasn't too happy about the news. "You do not approve of the idea?"

"I do. I am only concerned about their choice of a Secret Keeper."

"Who have they chosen?"

"Sirius Black."

Snape made a face of disgust.

"James insists that Sirius would rather die than betray them. And while I was of the same opinion until recently, I would rather they avoided having anyone from their inner circle perform the Charm."

"You are afraid there is a mole?"

"Yes."

"You could offer to do it yourself. They would surely be safer with you as their Secret Keeper."

"I intend to," Dumbledore said.

Snape then let out a short yelp and grabbed his left wrist. "He is calling us," he told Dumbledore. "I have to leave."

"Be very careful, Severus."

"I will." He walked to the door and opened it. "Be sure to give the Invisibility Cloak back to James Potter," he said and left, shutting the door behind him.

Harry looked at the cloak that Snape had left on the chair, the cloak that belonged to his father and now to him... but then the image changed yet again. Harry was now in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, with Dumbledore and Snape, who were having a cup of tea. It was a much more recent memory; Snape looked exactly like his present self.

"I thought about what you told me on Wednesday and came up with a plan," Dumbledore told Snape. "I believe it is our best shot."

Snape nodded, waiting to listen to the plan.

"It is very simple indeed," Dumbledore said. "You will have to kill me."

Snape's eyes widened and his jaw dropped open, not unlike Harry's. "What!"

"Yes. So that Draco will not be forced to become a killer."

"But you will still die!"

"This is exactly our goal. Please," he added, seeing Snape ready to interrupt him. "Let me explain you the full concept first."

Snape took a deep breath and waited. Harry wished he could sit on one of the chairs. His knees felt wobbly.

"I doubt that Voldemort gave that task to Draco because he thinks he is the most capable of killing me. I know him well, and he would never think an underage wizard could be powerful enough to kill somebody like me. I believe that he is actually leading Draco to failure, in order to punish Lucius for letting him down at the Department of Mysteries. However, he does want me dead, and if Draco fails his mission he will need somebody else to kill me. Somebody who is a very powerful wizard, who has access to me, and whom I do not consider a threat, so as to have the element of surprise."

"Me."

"Exactly."

"But why would you let _me _kill you, and not Draco?"

"Because I want to spare Draco the stain of becoming a killer."

Harry wondered whether that meant that Snape had already committed murder sometime in his life.

"Besides," Dumbledore continued, "you have told me yourself that there is a number of Death Eaters who are suspicious of where your true loyalty lies. And although Voldemort claims to trust you, I can assure you that he trusts no one. He is just waiting for the perfect opportunity to force you into a situation where your true colours will show. And here it is."

"So killing you will relieve me of any doubts the Death Eaters may have about me."

"Exactly."

"But I can only do it if Draco fails. And if Draco fails, the Dark Lord will have him pay for his failure."

"This is where our plan comes in. Instead of standing by until Draco fails, you will offer to help him. You are his head of House, he knows you well and he trusts you. So, once he agrees to that you will kill me in the pretext of helping him. Therefore, Draco will avoid the dire consequences of failing his mission, and you will prove beyond the shadow of any doubt that you are a true Death Eater at heart."

"Even so, you don't have to die," Snape said. "There are other ways... Peter Pettigrew faked his death, and so did Bartemius Crouch... We could surely figure out a good plan. I came up with some ideas yesterday..."

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "I am not afraid of dying, Severus."

"But the Order needs you!"

"The Order can go on without me. In fact, I often think that I am actually impeding them, instead of helping them."

Snape looked at him incredulously, and so did Harry.

"Action is for the young," Dumbledore explained, still smiling. "The war is not for the old."

"Experience is a valuable tool," Snape countered.

"_You_ are experienced. And so are Remus, Sturgis, or if you are looking for someone older, Minerva, Elphias, Alastor... I have nothing more to offer."

Snape took a sip of tea. Harry could tell he had given up.

How wrong had he been... how wrong had everybody been... Dumbledore had not been murdered; he had _chosen_ to die. And Snape... _Snape_...

His train of thought was interrupted as his surroundings changed yet again. He was with Dumbledore, outside his office door. The elder man opened it and entered, and Harry followed him in. Snape was already there.

"Professor!" he exclaimed once he saw Dumbledore. "I was afraid something bad happened to you."

Dumbledore gave him a sad smile. "Not yet." He made a move towards his chair, took off his travelling cloak and haphazardly hung it on its back. "But I suspect that something will, very soon, which is why I wanted to see you."

Snape nodded, his face full of anxiousness.

"I shall be leaving with Harry very shortly," Dumbledore continued. "There is a very dangerous venture I have to make, one I am not certain I will survive. If I do, though -"

"I shall heal you."

"You will _kill _me."

"No!"

Dumbledore's face became stern. Snape lowered his head.

"It is time," the elder man went on. "Time for you to shatter any scepticism about your loyalty to Voldemort, and make yourself the most respected among his followers. The Order will miss its spy, but your new status will render you safer, while putting you in the perfect position to help our side during the final battle."

"But, if the Order is not aware of my purpose -"

"Harry will be, and he is the only one who needs to be. The Order is merely seeking to contain Death Eater attacks and help keep everyone safe. The one who will act directly against Voldemort will be Harry, and it is _his _team that you will be joining from now on. Which brings us back to why I originally called you here."

Dumbledore walked to the cabinet beside the door to retrieve the Pensieve, which he then placed on the desk.

"In order for Harry to be assured of where your true loyalty lies, we shall put here some of our memories for him to see. I shall then enchant the Pensieve, to ensure that no one else has access to them."

_So that's what I've been watching, _Harry thought. He kept watching as they started placing some of their memories in the Pensieve.

"As soon as you leave the room, I shall also add the memory of this conversation," Dumbledore said when they were done. "Now please return to your study."

The image dissolved and turned into the first memory he had seen in the Pensieve. Harry figured the trip was over and tried to leave. He had never before exited the Pensieve without someone's help, but he concentrated and managed to drag himself out, through the darkness and back on the bed, between Ron and Hermione, where he had been sitting.

"What did you see?" Ron asked him anxiously.

Harry stared at the Pensieve intensely. Now that he had had some time to absorb everything he had seen in there, the impact of it was even more overwhelming.

Those memories had shown him things he would have never imagined. He knew that Snape felt he owed James for saving his life that night – Dumbledore had told him that, to explain why Snape had tried to save him when Quirrell had tried to kill him back in his first year at Hogwarts. But he had no idea about how far that debt reached... far enough to make Snape switch sides so as to protect his saviour's family... far enough to make him try to murder Voldemort...

And Dumbledore's death... they had all thought it to be murder, while it was really self-sacrifice. They had all thought Snape's act to be the ultimate treason, while it was exactly the opposite... a manifest of loyalty. Yes, things were so different than they seemed...

"Harry?"

He felt Hermione's hand squeeze his arm.

"Are you all right?"

"I think so..."

"What did you see?" Ron asked again.

Harry gulped and, with a quivering voice, started narrating them everything he'd seen in the Pensieve. Ron and Hermione listened without interrupting him, the shock on their faces more apparent with every detail Harry added. When Harry finished his narration, they had been left dumbstruck.

Ron was the first one to find his voice again. "Are you sure?"

"I told you exactly what I saw."

"And what if it was a trick?

"How could it be? I saw the memory of them storing the memories."

"What if these memories are fake?"

Harry pondered that for a moment. "I don't think so. If it was possible to create fake memories, Slughorn would have created one about the Horcruxes, instead of giving Dumbledore one that was so obviously tampered with."

"Hermione?"

The girl looked at them thoughtfully. "We all know that Dumbledore trusted Snape, right? And didn't you -" she addressed Harry "- tell us that he trusted him because Snape told him he was sorry to find out that the prophecy he gave to Voldemort was about your parents?"

Harry nodded, starting to see her point.

"And don't all these memories agree with what Dumbledore has been telling you all along?"

Harry nodded again. "And in the last memory, he said it clearly that they're leaving these memories for me, so that I can see where Snape's true loyalty lies."

"If we accept that these memories are genuine," Hermione concluded, "I think everything's crystal clear."

"I'm not sure they're genuine," Ron insisted. "Besides, even if they are, what's the point of all this? Why should Harry be the only one to know the truth about Snape? Why not tell the Order? You think they wouldn't keep it a secret?"

"The more people know, the riskier it is," Hermione reasoned. "Snape's cover is better if the whole Order, not to mention the wizarding public, thinks of him as a murderer."

"Besides," Harry added, "Snape, as a spy, would have to pass on to Voldemort some information about the Order's plans. Now he's lost all access to them."

"And the Order has lost all access to Voldemort's plans," Ron countered.

"The Order has more spies," Harry said. "There's Lupin among the werewolves, for one."

Ron frowned. "I'm still not convinced," he eventually said. "What if Snape was playing Dumbledore all along? If he wanted to kill him and Dumbledore wasn't going to resist, it would be all the best for him."

Harry quickly discarded that thought as well. "I don't think so. Ron, these memories went a long time back. Snape couldn't have foreseen what would happen and stage all that."

"OK, boys," Hermione interjected, "I don't think we need to worry about that yet. I mean, whether Snape's on our side or not, this doesn't change what we have to do."

"Right," Harry agreed. "Snape's not our problem now."

Ron nodded his agreement as well. "Let's get to the pressing matters."

"First of all, we'll need a plan," Hermione said and summoned a big quantity of writing supplies on the bed. They sat around and began their planning.

**-End of chapter 2-**

**A/N: **I know that according to the official Black Family Tree Narcissa is 4 or 5 years older than Snape... but I made her a little younger than that, fanfic licence, if you will. After all, according to that same tree, her father had his first daughter when he was 13...

'Cronorum Imitatio' is obviously not canon. I made it from the Greek word Cronos, which means Saturn, adding it the Latin ending –orum of the genitive case, and the Latin word imitatio, which obviously means imitation.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I would be very happy if you took the time to review :)


	3. The Phoenix Rises Again

Thank you for reading so far. Here is chapter 3.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: Again, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :) It's nice to have some support while working on this huge fic.

Please read and review. Any comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) will be very welcome. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna.

-----

**-Chapter 3: The Phoenix rises again -**

Rarely had the kitchen at number twelve, Grimmauld Place seen such a crowd. The dinner table had been removed and replaced by several rows of chairs, enough for the few dozens of people that had gathered to be seated. Minerva McGonagall was standing in front of them, slightly nervous.

Alastor Moody was the last to enter the room. He gestured to McGonagall that everyone expected was present and found a seat in the back row. McGonagall took a deep breath and started talking.

"Good evening, fellow members of the Order. First of all, I would like to thank you all for coming. As I have already told you, this meeting is critical for the future of the Order, so your presence here was necessary. Whether you are an active or a passive member, your opinion matters."

The distinction between active and passive members was based on the services they provided for the Order. The active members were the core of the Order: the ones who attended the regular meetings to contribute to the planning of the action against the Death Eaters and undertake the 'temporary' missions – short-term assignments such as participating in a battle or tracking down particular Death Eaters. The passive members were the ones assigned specific, long-term or otherwise mentioned as 'permanent' missions they had to fit in their regular lives: some of them were spies among certain circles, others were in the hunt for recruiting new members, and others were guards or watch-keepers.

"I am not very good with speeches," McGonagall continued, "so I will get straight to the point." She grabbed a piece of parchment she had left on the counter beside her. "Albus Dumbledore's death created some issues that need to be resolved. On this piece of parchment -" she showed it to them "- Dumbledore wrote his wishes about the future of the Order of the Phoenix, which I believe we should respect. Any disagreements?"

None came.

"Good. So, his first wish is for the Fidelius Charm to be cast again on this house, so as to undo the Charm he had previously cast and allow for any new members of the Order to be informed of its location. Alastor Moody took care of that voluntarily right after Dumbledore's death, so this matter is already settled. Now, the second matter we need to resolve is the election of a new leader. Let me read you Dumbledore's view on this subject:

'_Regarding the leadership of the Order of the Phoenix, I understand that I am expected to appoint my successor. However, I feel unable to do so. All teams must have leaders, not ones that command, but ones that work with the rest of the members and coordinate their actions in order to achieve the team's goals. And it is my opinion that the leader should be elected by those who will work with them; in our case, the Order members themselves._

_I shall not make any suggestions on specific candidates, but I would like to offer you my views on the matter, which you may choose to follow or ignore._

_- It is understandable that active members are more familiar with the overall plans of our work, as well as with the planning itself. While I am in no way suggesting that passive members would be incapable of such work, they would probably need some time getting used to this work approach._

_- The candidates for leadership should keep in mind that planning and programming is a rather time-consuming and stressful task. If someone has a very strict work schedule or has trouble performing under pressure, they might not want to undertake this responsibility._

_- I would like to emphasise that age should not be a factor. Old age has its advantages and its disadvantages; so does youth. However, I consider experience in war a great tool. Personally, I would feel more confident if the next leader was to be one of our older members, possibly someone who has been with us since the First War._

_- While I believe that discriminations have not found a place among the members of the Order of the Phoenix, I would like to remind you that the leader should be chosen for the position regardless of blood purity, sex or any other discrimination factors._

_- I would also like to point out that leadership does not require extraordinary magical skills, but rather sharp brain and logic skills._

_Apart from the above, though, I have two demands to make:_

_- Firstly, the candidates must be willing to take the position of the leader, and not be forced into it. Modesty is not a problem; however, low self-esteem is, and if someone feels they would not be able to function well in that position, it is likely that they indeed would not._

_- Secondly, I shall ask that the process of election be strictly democratic. If it is impossible to achieve unanimity, the leader should be the one chosen by the majority._

_I have trust in you, my fellow members of the Order, and I believe that whichever choice you make will be for the best.'_

"So," McGonagall said and drew a deep breath. "Now that we have Professor Dumbledore's suggestions in mind, I suggest that we have a vote." She turned the wall behind her into a blackboard. "We will make a list of the names of the candidates here and count votes. The one who gets the most votes will be our new leader. Everybody agrees with that?"

An approving murmur ran the room.

"So... Everybody who wants to be a candidate for the position, please raise a hand."

An awkward silence stretched in the room as no hands came up.

"Well," McGonagall said, trying to hide her discomfort behind a fake smile. "I believe this is more due to modesty than to low self-esteem. Let us try a different approach. Anybody who has a suggestion about who should be our leader, raise your hand and give us your suggestion. If the suggested member agrees, their name will be listed and, after we are done with the suggestions, we can vote. Any disagreements?"

Everybody seemed to think that was a good idea.

"So... your thoughts, please?"

A few moments passed before Arabella Figg timidly raised her hand. "I know my opinion doesn't weigh too much in comparison to the others'..." she started.

"Of course it does, Arabella," McGonagall encouraged her.

"...I think that you, Minerva, are the best for the position."

"You do?" McGonagall seemed to be taken aback. "Oh... well, I don't think I could be as good as others, but..." She turned around and, with a flourish of her wand, she made her name appear on the blackboard. "Any other suggestions?"

It was Tonks who raised her hand next.

"Yes, Tonks?"

"I would like to suggest Remus for the position."

Remus, who was sitting beside her, turned around with a jolt. "What?"

She ignored him and spoke loudly, addressing the whole crowd. "He has been an active member of the Order for years, and we all know he is an intelligent person who can handle difficult situations with success. Besides, he doesn't work, which means he has nothing to distract him from leader duties."

"He spends long periods of time with the werewolves, though," McGonagall pointed out.

"But his cover was blown the night of Dumbledore's death, when he was forced to attack Greyback. He won't be returning there."

"But, Tonks -" he tried to protest.

"Remus," McGonagall cut him, "address the audience, please. I am sure many of us want to hear your reasoning."

"Well..." He exhaled heavily. "I don't disagree with most of the things Tonks said, but I intended to return to the werewolf community."

"She is right, though. Your cover is blown. And while our future assignments are to be discussed later on, I would like us to straighten this out right away. How do you plan to explain your attack to Greyback?"

"I – I don't know, yet."

"Do consider the possibility that you are better off staying here, then. Regardless of that, though – shall I list you among the candidates for the leader's position?"

He sighed. "Yes."

So she did. "Any other suggestions?"

Two more hands came up, to suggest Arthur Weasley and Alastor Moody. They both accepted the honour, so their names joined the other two on the board.

"Time to vote," McGonagall eventually said. "I don't find it necessary to have a secret ballot – I am quite sure there will be no hard feelings from anyone of us."

"Of course not, Minerva," Moody growled.

"So – everyone who would like to vote for me, please raise your hand."

About a dozen people raised their hands, and with each hand that came up, a line was drawn beside McGonagall's name on the board. At seeing the number, she realised it would be highly unlikely for her to win – but she wasn't going to get angry over it. She found it funny, though, that the other three candidates had given her their vote.

"Now vote for Remus, please."

About thirty hands came up, lines furiously getting drawn on the board. Remus looked around in a state of shock; it seemed that he had been elected the new leader of the Order. Tonks smirked at him.

"Now, who votes for Arthur?"

Very few hands came up. McGonagall noticed that, while Molly did vote for him, Bill and Charlie didn't. She would have expected the opposite to happen.

"And now vote for Alastor, please."

This was where her vote went as well. She wasn't really surprised to see that he took the fewest votes of all. Most people had little tolerance for his obsession with security. Totally in contrast with her, who saw that as an advantage of his.

"If you will accept that, Remus, you have just been named the new leader of the Order of the Phoenix."

"I do," he said timidly. A round of enthusiastic applause ran the room; the other candidates joined in as well. _No hard feelings._

"Would you like to step up and take it from here?" she suggested when the applause died down.

"No, no," he assured her. "Go on as you have planned."

She nodded. "All right. So, last thing in today's agenda is taking care of everybody's assignments. And I do believe that we should start with you, Remus."

Remus reddened slightly.

"Before we come to the subject of whether you can balance the leader duties with spying, have you thought up an excuse for attacking Greyback already?"

He shook his head.

"Remus, spying does require taking some risks, but not foolish ones. I was at Hogwarts during that battle as well; I saw you repeatedly curse Greyback and the other Death Eaters, and I saw you dash at Greyback and try to push him away from Bill. If you go there, chances are that you will never return."

"But we _need _someone there," he objected calmly. "And I am the only one who can go."

"I can go, too," Bill interjected.

"No, you can't," Remus said. "You are not a full werewolf. And you are getting married in less than a month."

"I am werewolf enough," Bill said with a shrug. "And besides," he added, before Remus had a chance to make another objection, "the biggest risk I'll run if I go will be being denied access to their community. Not getting my spleen ripped off."

Remus sighed heavily.

"Who thinks that Bill should take Remus's place as a spy in the werewolf community?" McGonagall asked.

All hands rose. Remus made a tired gesture of defeat.

"Point taken. Bill goes. If they do not accept him, we will think of something else. Prudence - " McGonagall addressed a bespectacled woman sitting in the second row "- you will be from now on our only contact in Gringotts."

Prudence nodded. She was in the public relations department in Gringotts and had been a passive Order member for more than a year. Her position had the drawback that her contacts with goblins were limited, since she mostly handled the paperwork of that sector.

"Professor," Bill raised his hand, "Fleur wants to join the Order too."

His parents turned to him, surprised.

"Fred and George too," Charlie said. He had come from Romania for the meeting, along with the three friends of his he had recruited. Fred and George had found the chance to ask him about that, since everyone else in their family had turned a deaf ear to them.

McGonagall gestured to Remus, indicating that he was the one who would have to make this decision.

"I don't think there is a reason for us to decline their request. I didn't know of Fleur's wish to join us, but I have got to know her and I believe that she sincerely wants to help. As for the twins, they have been requesting to join us for a long time."

"They're too young!" Molly protested.

"I was younger than them when I joined the Order," he told her calmly, then addressed the whole room again. "If the Order agrees, they will join us and take the Order Oath in a meeting tomorrow at noon. Assistance is optional for the passive members."

"Any disagreements?" McGonagall asked. None came. "Settled. Now, who else has a problem with their assigned mission?"

-----

The meeting was over shortly after. Few changes were needed in the members' schedules. As they all started to leave the house, Remus asked Tonks to stay for a while. They waited until everyone had left, then Remus spoke.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said, trying not to sound too harsh.

"Done what?" she asked, her tone challenging.

"Suggest that I should stay."

"Why not?"

"Because you know how things are! The werewolf community is not a place for Bill. _I _should go; I know them well, and I've learned to cope with them."

"If I hadn't spoken up, somebody else would have. Besides, it was McGonagall who cornered you in the end, and it was Bill who volunteered to go as a spy to the werewolves. And you saw that everybody agreed with us! Why can't you accept that you're wrong?"

He shook his head, distressed. "I would have found a way out of it. I always do. The werewolves accepted me knowing I'd fought by the Order's side during the First War. And besides, there's a neutral party in the werewolf society; I joined them and never needed to pretend I supported Voldemort."

"You said it yourself. _Neutral. _Is there a party to support the Order of the Phoenix? Because what you did that night didn't look all that neutral to me."

"Look -"

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked, her tone annoyed.

"Yes."

"Why did you accept the leader's position?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I... I thought I might be able to help. And I _want _to help."

"You won't be much help in a grave," she spat.

"But that's my point, it wouldn't kill me to go there -"

"It would!" she yelled, her eyes red in anger. "You keep doing that, you worry over everyone else and never stop for a moment to think that _you _might be the one in danger! When was the last time you did something to protect yourself?"

"I'm not interested in protecting myself -"

He stopped abruptly as she stomped towards him, bringing her face inches away from his.

"Altruism is one thing. _Stupidity _is another."

With that, she stormed away, leaving him to stare in shock after her.

**-End of chapter 3-**


	4. Safety Measures

Thank you for reading so far. Here is chapter 4. My apologies for the duplicate notices, but I removed it temporarily in order to fix something.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: Again, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :)

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna.

-----

**-Chapter 4: Safety measures-**

She returned home furious at him. She banged the door closed and collapsed in the big sofa, trying to relieve her rage by squeezing a cushion to death.

The past few days had been like a dream. They had avoided discussing anything that could spoil the joy of their being together at last. Tonks had known he would eventually want to go back to the werewolves, and she had promised herself that she wouldn't let it happen; she knew he couldn't go back there, and she had thought that, eventually, he'd come to face it. If everybody else agreed with her, he would have to realise he was wrong, wouldn't he?

But no, Remus Lupin could never be wrong. It was _her_ who was wrong, who didn't see that a confrontation with Greyback wasn't all that big a deal, who didn't realise that helping the Order meant falling head first in certain death situations, who didn't understand the absurdity of caring for a werewolf's well-being.

So what if he hadn't voiced that last thought? She knew he believed it. More than that; he _lived _with it. It showed in his behaviour, in everything he said and did. He had stopped using it as an excuse, because he had seen that it didn't work – none of his friends would buy it. It was still in his mind, though, a self-instilled burden he didn't let anyone lift away.

That was what drove Tonks crazy. That he would not accept that she wanted him to be safe. He had spent a whole year staying away from her 'so as to protect her', but he wouldn't let her do anything to protect _him_. Why did he have to be so stubborn? If all he wanted was for her to be happy, as he always said, why didn't he let her take care of the one thing her happiness depended on?

She squeezed the cushion tighter. She knew he hadn't meant to upset her; he had only wanted to make her understand that what he would do, or what would happen to him, wasn't always up to her. And she couldn't deny that he was right about that. But as long as there was anything she could do to keep him safe, she'd do it. She didn't want to lose him. She would rather die than live without him.

_Merlin, what has he done to me,_ she thought. _I never thought I could love anyone so much._

And yet, she had. It was like her, really; she wasn't one to control her emotions. Everything she felt, she lived it to the maximum. It was no surprise that, when she'd fall in love, it would be as completely and uncompromisingly as few could love.

Green flames suddenly erupted in her fireplace, and Remus arrived in the room.

"Hey."

"Go away," she said, without really meaning it.

He walked over to the sofa and sat beside her. She didn't look at him, but neither did she object when he put his arm around her shoulders.

"Are you angry?" he asked softly.

"Yes." She pouted.

"Why?"

"Because you're a jerk."

He leaned in closer to her and with his free hand he brought her face closer to his. "I'm sorry."

"Remus..." She let the cushion drop on the floor and let her hand crawl up to his neck. "I know we're in a war. I know I can't protect you from everything. But at least try not to be so reckless."

He gave her a small smile. "Nobody ever told me I was reckless."

"Well, you are, when it comes to you. Your health, your safety..." She planted a kiss on his lips. "...your happiness..."

He kissed her back. "You took care of that last one."

"I want to take care of everything." She kissed him again, letting her lips linger on his for a moment before breaking contact. "I couldn't stand to lose you."

"You won't lose me."

"Promise me you'll be careful."

"If it'll make you happy."

"It will."

"I promise." He drew closer to capture her lips one more time. "I love you."

"I love you too."

-----

Ron was helping Harry practise defensive spells and charms, while Hermione, sitting at the desk, was writing a letter to the Ministry of Magic. Harry had just received a warning for underage magic, and she was explaining that the magic they had detected was actually performed by her and Ron, who were legally adults now. Of course, that was only partly true, but Harry needed all the practice he could get and they were willing to lie to the Ministry of Magic if that would help him.

"Are you done yet?" Ron asked her in annoyance at some point.

"Almost. Keep practising."

"There's no point in practising, his defences are better than anything I can do to harm him!"

"Then switch roles," she said, without looking up.

"OK, then, I'm attacking you," Harry said to Ron. "Ready?"

"I think so."

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

Ron tried a Shield Charm, but all it managed when Harry's spell collided with it was to send his wand flying to Hermione's head.

"Ow!" she exclaimed. "I said, I'm almost done!"

"Sorry. I didn't do it on purpose."

They went on for a little longer, until Hermione finished the letter and sent it with Hedwig to the Ministry. Then, she turned to the boys. Ron had a few bruises from being hit with Harry's spells. Harry, on the other hand, seemed unscathed.

"Do you want to practise defence with me?" she asked him.

"Sure."

Hermione's spells were more swift and strong than Ron's, but Harry blocked them too with characteristic ease. After they practised for a while, Hermione gave him an approving nod.

"You're good. Although we knew that already. I think it's time to practise more dangerous spells now."

"Like?" Harry asked.

"Like... the Sectumsempra Curse."

Ron gave her a disgusted look. "That's vile."

"So are the Death Eaters. If we're going to fight them, we'll need much more dangerous weapons than Expelliarmus and Impedimenta."

"A well-executed Impedimenta can work miracles," Harry mused aloud.

"Well, before we can work on quality, let's work on quantity."

Ron eyed Harry for a moment, then turned to Hermione. "I'm _not _letting him practise Sectumsempra on me."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded him. She turned around and conjured three big, fluffy pillows, which she set afloat in the other side of the room. "One for each of us. On three. One... two... three..."

"SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Harry's curse came out rather forcefully and created a huge X on the pillow, making it spew feathers all over. Hermione managed a good slash on hers. As for Ron, while he didn't manage to rip the material open, he did scratch it in several places.

"Not bad for a first try," Hermione commented and charmed the pillows back to their previous state.

"You know," Harry said to his friends, "I think it works better if you do it like this." He held his wand with the tip pointing straight at the pillow, instead of the usual duel stance in which the wand was held like a sword, slightly jerked forward. "That's how Snape did it."

"You've seen him cast this curse?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah... In the Pensieve." Harry decided not to mention the particular circumstances, when, in Snape's office, he had seen Snape cast the Sectumsempra Curse on his father. For the first time, though, he realised who the 'enemies' Snape was referring to when writing down the spell really were – his father and Sirius, and maybe Lupin and Pettigrew as well – and took a moment to ponder the irony of the situation.

Ron suppressed a scowl. He was still distrustful in Snape, but, after all, he was the creator of this spell. He would know how it worked better than anyone.

"All right then," Hermione said. "Let's try again."

With that, the three of them started to attack the pillows again.

-----

She couldn't help but stop by the Malfoy Mansion every time she was on her way somewhere. And today was no different.

No different at all. The impressive, luxurious mansion stood proud and empty, as it had been for days. The windows were open, yet gave off an impression of abandonment.

Where had they gone? Why had they left? Bellatrix didn't know; nobody knew. Snape claimed that he had been forced to engage in a battle with Potter and had to let Draco on his own. He saw him run outside the Hogwarts gates and Disapparate... and that was the last anyone had seen of him.

Was it fear? Narcissa had been afraid... but Draco hadn't. He had been brave, worthy of the mission he had been given. He had almost accomplished it, even; it had been Snape who had had to perform the curse in the end, but everything that had happened that night at Hogwarts was thanks to Draco. The Dark Lord would acknowledge that.

Bellatrix threw another look through the iron bars of the gates and, with a sigh, Disapparated.

-----

Narcissa saw her sister come and go, all the while standing by the window. In plain view, yet invisible to everyone. Snape and his Fidelius Charm had done a good job.

She regretted being unable to tell her that she was here, safe, with Draco. But she knew her sister well; the moment she'd learn, no matter how much Narcissa would plead with her to keep it a secret, she would go tell the Dark Lord how to find them. Not that she didn't love Narcissa, or Draco. But he was something different to her. He was the authority, and her loyalty to him outran every other bond she shared with anyone.

She gave a weary jerk to the curtain and turned to her son. "What are you reading?"

Draco was sitting on one of the sofas, leafing through a book in obvious boredom. "Nothing."

She sat on the armchair, opposite to him. "You haven't regretted it, have you?"

"Sometimes I think that even certain death would be better than that."

Her beautiful face darkened. "Don't say that, Draco."

"I chose to become a coward," Draco said bitterly. "Serves me well."

Narcissa looked away from him. She had no doubt that he thought of her as somewhat responsible for that as well. For agreeing to go into hiding. For refusing to stand proud before the Dark Lord. She briefly wondered if that decision was a mistake, but no; it wasn't. Lord Voldemort did not accept failure in any form. And, although she didn't care much about herself, she wanted her son to be safe. This was the only way to it.

Silence fell in the room for a while, but the sound of footsteps interrupted it. Narcissa looked up and saw Severus Snape coming out of the fireplace.

"Good evening, Severus."

"Good evening, Narcissa," he said politely. "Draco." The boy only acknowledged his presence with a nod. "I brought some things for you."

He reached into his pocket and retrieved a mini basket. With one spell, he turned it into a big one, full of food and other supplies.

"I figured your supplies would be running out by now. Also..." He placed the basket on the floor and reached in the inside pocket of his cloak. "These days, the Daily Prophet is merely a shadow of the informative, trustworthy newspaper it once was, but at least it will give you a clue as to what is happening in the wizarding community." He handed the paper to Narcissa. "And now, I shall leave. We must not risk me being seen here."

"Thank you for coming," Narcissa said.

He nodded at her and turned around, to throw some Floo Powder in the fireplace and disappear into the green flames.

-----

The following morning, Remus had an unexpected visit from Minerva McGonagall. He welcomed her in his small flat and led her to the sitting room. While he went to the kitchen to bring some tea, she took a minute to examine her surroundings.

The sitting room was nothing more than a sofa, an armchair and a coffee table positioned in front of the fireplace. The northern side of the room was occupied by a small table and six chairs – the dining room – and the southern side by a desk, a chair and, behind it, a large bookcase – his office. The decorations were scarce; some candleholders on the tables and a few framed pictures on the walls. The windows were small, positioned high on the wall, since the flat was mostly underground, and they only allowed a little amount of light in, giving the room a miserable atmosphere. McGonagall hadn't visited the place before, but the information she had gathered had given her a pretty good idea of what she should expect. Seeing it, every little doubt she had about making this visit disappeared.

Remus came in the room with a tray in his hand. "Have a seat, Minerva, please." She sat on the sofa and he served her some tea, then poured some in his own cup and sat in the armchair. "So, what brings you here?"

"I was informed about Dumbledore's will yesterday evening." She took a sip of her tea. "He left all his belongings to the Order."

Remus nodded. He expected that much from Dumbledore.

"His belongings," McGonagall continued, "consist of a rather large sum of money, as well as his house in Plymouth. As our new leader, you will be managing these, along with all the other possessions of the Order."

He nodded again. "But what is it that couldn't wait until our meeting? It's in less than two hours."

McGonagall eyed him behind her square glasses, her expression strict. "I wanted to tell you to move into that house."

"Move there?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because there is no reason to pay rent for this... hole. Especially since you have no income."

"I can try to look for another job now that I won't be spying. And Mrs Nerrince doesn't mind if I sometimes take long to pay the rent -"

"Remus," she cut him sternly, "I would very much like you to take as much money from the Order account as you need to pay everything you owe to Mrs Nerrince and move into the house in Plymouth. With number twelve, Grimmauld Place as our Headquarters, that house will remain unoccupied. And there is no reason for it, when it can be put into such good use."

"I could never take advantage of the Order property -"

"The Order property exists to serve the Order members. And provide them with lodging, should they find themselves in need thereof."

"I am not homeless," he protested calmly.

"This is not charity," she countered. "But I do believe that now that you are the leader of the Order, you should stay away from the distraction of looking for another job every other month, as you usually do."

Remus reddened, suppressing his annoyance. One would guess he _enjoyed _changing jobs, by the way she said that.

"In any case," McGonagall continued, taking another sip of her tea. "I cannot force you. We are not in school anymore. But I do believe that your pride sometimes takes you down difficult paths you don't really need to walk. And while this is admirable of you, at times it can also be proven rather stupid."

Remus was strongly reminded of a certain Auror, who had called him stupid in more than one case, the last time being yesterday.

"I am not suggesting that you should always take the easy way out," she went on. "This is a rather cowardly tactic, and you are better than that. I am just saying that you shouldn't always choose the most difficult way, either. Look for the alternatives. There always are."

Remus sighed. "All right. I'll think about it."

Her lips curled into a small smile. "Very well, then."

And she took another sip of tea.

Two hours later, after Fred Weasley, George Weasley and Fleur Delacour took the Order Oath, Remus Lupin announced to his colleagues that his new residence would be number sixty-seven, Paddlestone Lane, Plymouth.

**-End of chapter 4-**


	5. Preparations

Thank you for reading so far. Here is chapter 5.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :)

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna.

-----

**-Chapter 5: Preparations-**

When in need of company, go to the Burrow. Tonks had found that she could always find a friendly face there, be it Molly, Arthur, Ginny or one of the boys.

That beautiful, sunny Saturday morning, such a rare occurrence since the Second War had officially begun, Tonks didn't want to be alone in her flat. She felt like talking to someone, seeing people, having fun. And, naturally, the Burrow was her first choice. She didn't even need to think twice; she threw some Floo Powder in the fireplace and was transported there in an instant. Molly had told her their fireplace was always open for her.

Once she was there, she saw Fleur sitting at the table, immersed in some paperwork. "Wotcher," she greeted.

"Tonks!" Fleur chirped, looking up. "So good to see you!" She left the piece of parchment she was holding on the table and ran to hug Tonks, who returned the hug despite being quite dumbfounded at receiving such a greeting from the French girl. "What brings you here?"

"Nothing in particular, I just thought I'd drop by. You?"

"I came earlier to try my wedding dress on, and when we were done Madame Molly left with Monsieur Arthur to do some shopping." Fleur frowned. "She asked me to go over these bills to save 'er some time, but I am not very good with numbers."

"Maybe I can help you," Tonks said.

"No, no..." Fleur grabbed Tonks's hand. "Since you are 'ere, maybe we could discuss something else."

The two women sat in the table. "What is it?" Tonks asked, looking concerned.

"I wanted to ask you how you are doing with Monsieur Remus," Fleur said seriously.

"Oh... everything's fine. Why?"

"I did not know what was going on between you two all this time. I only found out zat day at 'Ogwarts. I was really worried for you, because I knew how I would feel if it had been Bill telling me those theengs."

Tonks was at a loss for words. "That's very nice of you," she fumbled. "I was worried for you too... hoping that Bill wouldn't say something similar when he'd wake up."

"I didn't give 'im the chance." Fleur beamed. "I was by his side when 'e woke up, and 'e quickly realised zat I was not going to go away even if 'e asked me to."

"It was very brave of you," Tonks said earnestly.

Fleur eyed Tonks for a minute, silent. "You have changed," she finally said.

"Have I?"

"Yes. You are not zat perky anymore. Even though you stopped being depressed, you are not like you used to be when I first met you."

Tonks's gaze absently fell on the window, and she took a few moments to reply. "It was a tough year."

"I am sorry. I would 'ave tried to help you, if I had known."

Tonks smiled. "You would've probably failed, but thanks. It's good to know. And... if you ever think you need my help, don't hesitate to ask. Things might get tricky now that you're in the Order and Bill's going away."

"I know. But I am not afraid."

"Good for you." She glanced over at the parchments sprawled out on the table. "Now, let me give you a hand with these."

They were in the middle of double-checking the bills when Ginny walked in the room dressed in a light, flowery robe, her half-shut eyes and messed up hair revealing she had only just waken up. "Hey. Where's everyone?"

"Madame Molly and Monsieur Arthur went shopping for groceries. Bill and Charlie took Monsieur Remus and went to buy Bill's wedding robes."

"Why did they wait until now?" Tonks asked. "The wedding's only a month away."

Fleur shrugged. "Men."

"And they really went shopping for _clothes_?" Ginny asked, incredulous. "Three _men_? On their own?"

"I told them it was not a good idea, but Bill did not want me to go along. 'E said zat since I am not allowing 'im to see my wedding dress, eet ees only fair zat I do not see his wedding robes, eizer."

The three girls shared looks of amused horror at the thought of what the three men could end up buying.

"You know," Tonks said in a mock serious tone, patting Fleur's shoulder, "you'll just have to keep looking into his eyes. Straight into his eyes. And don't forget: Whatever he's wearing, he's the man you love."

They all burst out laughing.

-----

"How about this one?"

"No way. It's _white._"

"What's wrong with white?"

"It clashes with my hair."

"White doesn't clash with anything," Charlie said impatiently.

"It doesn't look good on me." Bill picked out a black coat. "I like this one better -"

"_Black? _In the middle of the summer?"

"Don't let these past few days' sunshine fool you. We rarely get any sun anymore, what with all these Dementors on the loose..."

"Still... _black? _Why don't you try beige?"

Bill examined the coat his brother was showing him. "Hmm... Remus?"

"Yes?" the man said, looking up from the rack he was going through.

"What d'you think about this one?"

"I like the white one better."

Bill made a face of annoyance. "Then it's yours. I hope Tonks likes you in white."

Charlie blinked. "Tonks?" His gaze flew from Bill to Remus. "What am I missing here?"

"He's dating Tonks."

"Get out!"

"Seriously. Didn't you hear?"

"I've only been here for three days, give me some time to catch up!" He winked at Remus. "Good choice. She's a great girl."

"Yeah, I know."

"I'll have to tell Marian," he said thoughtfully. "He seems to have taken a fancy on her..."

Marian was one of Charlie's best friends in Romania, and, along with two more of his study mates, had joined the Order as a passive member about a year and a half ago. The four of them had come to Britain for the critical meeting that had taken place a few days earlier.

"Better luck next time," Bill said with a shrug, his attention back to the clothes hanging on the rack. "Aha!" He held up a pale green cloak. "How about this one?"

Remus and Charlie exchanged looks.

"No way," they said in unison.

-----

Piles of Defence Against the Dark Arts, Charms and Transfiguration books were scattered in the small room. Harry, Ron and Hermione were going over the contents lists, looking for new spells to practise on.

Hermione was checking her copy of _Confronting the Faceless_. "There's a chapter on Inferi here -"

"Incendio," Harry said quickly, remembering how Dumbledore had repelled the Inferi some time ago.

"Oh."

Ron sceptically studied an entry in _Guide to Advanced Transfiguration_. "D'you reckon learning how to transfigure wands into quills can come in handy?"

"It's a way to disarm the opponent," Hermione reasoned.

"If it can be done quickly," Harry said and crawled near Ron to check the entry.

"The rate of transfiguration depends solely on magical ability and practice," Hermione quoted _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_.

Harry was now reading aloud the introduction. "_'Wands, despite their small size, are among the most difficult items to transfigure due to their significant magical properties. The easiest item to transfigure a wand into is a quill. This task becomes considerably easier if the wand contains a feather-based core, however wands of all cores can be transfigured properly with effort and concentration.' _Let's practise on my wand, its core is made by phoenix feather -"

"No," Hermione cut in, "_you _are the one who needs to perfect his magic. You'll be using your own wand."

"Maybe he should practise with other wands, too," Ron suggested. "He might lose his during a battle."

Hermione pondered this for a second. "OK. Here." She handed Harry her wand. "You two read the instructions and start practising on Harry's wand. I'll see if I can find any other useful spells."

Several minutes of silence passed. When Hermione was done skimming through anything that looked promising – coming up with nothing of importance – Harry and Ron had already began practice; they were attacking the wand simultaneously, with considerably good results. Harry's wand now had one sharp edge and golden threads were sprouting out of it.

"We need more material," Hermione stated, causing the boys to turn to look at her. "And most of all, books on Horcruxes."

"It can't be that hard to find advanced spellbooks," Ron said. "I can ask Mum to owl me my brothers' old books. Or, we could ask Lupin to lend us some."

"Spellbooks we can find," Harry seconded. "But books on Horcruxes? They surely won't have any in 'Flourish and Blotts'."

"The Knockturn Alley?" Hermione suggested.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sounds like a plan. 'Harry Potter was seen yesterday in Knockturn Alley searching for books on Horcruxes'. It would look great on the Prophet."

"Nobody must know about the Horcruxes," Ron agreed. "But Hermione's right; if you're going to destroy the Horcruxes, you'll need instructions on how to do it."

"How exactly did you destroy the diary?" Hermione asked. "The Basilisk's tooth, right?"

"Yeah." Harry answered. "I think it poisoned him."

"Then maybe we should brew some poisons, to keep with us when we go looking for the Horcruxes." She crawled to her trunk and started looking for her copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_.

"Where are we going to put the cauldron?" Ron asked. "We need the space in here for practice, and the potion might take months to mature for all we know."

"We could use the cupboard under the stairs," Harry suggested. "I'll go ask for permission."

"Not alone," Hermione said, looking up. "We're coming with you. As an added argument, if you will," she added with a sly smile.

"Yeah," Ron agreed and turned to Harry. "Give her back her wand. It'll probably come in handy."

Harry smiled broadly and handed it to her.

-----

The three teenagers found Vernon and Petunia in the living room, watching the news on the television, oblivious to them as they entered the room.

Harry cleared his throat. "Uncle Vernon?"

Vernon turned around, his annoyance at being interrupted evident in his slowly reddening face. Petunia looked up as well.

"We were wondering whether the cupboard under the stairs is empty."

"And why is that?" Vernon asked, without much courtesy.

"We need some space to put our cauldrons."

"Cauldrons?" he asked, between gritted teeth.

"Yeah, to brew some potions."

Vernon rose. He was at the brink of explosion; only the firm glares Ron and Hermione were giving him kept his anger under a certain degree of control. Hermione, with her astuteness and familiarity with both the wizarding and Muggle world, and Ron, with his tall build and the air of having grown up in a wizarding family, were the perfect threat for the Dursleys when combined.

"_You _are _not _using _my_ cupboard for brewing _potions_," he said threateningly, spitting all over.

"We are sorry to insist, sir," Hermione said, taking a step forward. "But we really need it."

"You 'really' need it?" he mocked. "Isn't it enough that you're staying here in our house, and spend your days practising who-knows-what up there? Not only do we have to tolerate your noises, but now you want to brew _potions _as well?" He winced, remembering that the window was open, and lowered his voice. "You are lucky we even let you in here."

Ron drew his wand. Petunia only barely managed to stifle a shriek.

"We do not enjoy threatening," the boy stated. "But you are leaving us with no other choice."

Vernon eyed the wand cautiously, but did not cower. His anger at the wizarding folk had reached top levels.

"So," Ron spoke again. "Can we please use the cupboard, sir?"

"No."

"_Incarcerous._"

Petunia screamed when several ropes appeared out of nowhere and wrapped themselves around Vernon's fat body. He was now practically steaming, his face a furious scarlet. Harry was reminded of Hogwarts Express.

"Can we?" Ron asked.

"No!" Vernon panted. "I am not taking any more! You cannot threaten me inside my own house!"

Ron turned to Harry. "He's braver than I gave him credit for."

"For the first time in his life."

Petunia had risen and was looking at the ropes wringing Vernon all over, fear in her eyes. "Let go of him!" she cried at the three teenagers.

Ron shrugged and made a gesture of drawing the ropes near him. They disentangled from around Vernon's body, spinning him around as they did so, and vanished. Vernon took a few violent turns and landed with his back on the couch. Harry winced upon hearing the loud noise of the collision.

Hermione threw a worried look at the boys. "I don't think this is getting us anywhere," she whispered.

Harry was forced to agree when Vernon got up, still furious, bearing no sign of giving up.

"Since we don't seem able to make an agreement, we'll do something else," Ron stated. "We'll use the cupboard without your permission. There is a number of spells to keep you away from it anyway."

"How... _dare _you..." Vernon managed.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," the boy simply said. "We're sorry."

The three teenagers left the room and headed to Harry's bedroom.

"You know, it's no wonder they don't like wizards, if we all come out so bossy and aggressive," Hermione mused aloud.

"But what else could we do?" Ron said. "Explain them what we need the poisons for? They wouldn't understand."

Harry didn't speak. He agreed with both of them.

-----

With a little bit of concealing magic, the abandoned house in the borders of Little Hangleton had become a safe haven for a Death Eater on the run like Snape.

Looking out the window, he could see the Riddle House. Inside what appeared to be an old, abandoned manor, the evillest wizard of this time lived, gathering his followers and plotting new ways of destruction every day. Snape clutched his wand and wished once more he could kill him.

It wasn't fear that kept him from doing it. Even death in the hands of enraged Death Eaters would be a small price to pay to rid the world of _him._

What kept him was inability. Not lack of duelling skills, though; while Voldemort was undoubtedly the most powerful wizard on Earth, Snape was sure he could hold his own against him. No; the problem was the amount of magical shields that protected him. Merlin knew what potions, what dark magic he had used to make himself immune to magic, to harm, to death itself. And, to present knowledge, only one person could penetrate these shields. A seventeen-year-old boy who held the future of the wizarding world in his hands.

Snape's musings were interrupted as a cloaked figure appeared down the street. It walked slowly, taking careful looks at each house before moving on. Despite the black robes and the hood, he had no trouble recognising the person. He let the figure approach a little more before he went to the door and opened it. Upon seeing him on the doorstep, the figure scurried towards him.

"Looking for me, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix removed her hood and fixed her grey eyes upon his. "Yes," she spat.

With a faint sneer on his lips, he gestured for her to come in. She swiftly made her way in, walking to the middle of the barely furnished room, and grimacing at the lack of light as most of the curtains were closed.

"How did you know where to find me?" Snape asked once he closed the door.

She turned to him. "I've been following you."

"Your distrust in me is becoming an obsession, I see."

Bellatrix eyed him furiously. Snape felt her attempt to perform Legilimency at him, but had no trouble blocking her away. After all this time of being so close to Voldemort, Occlumency had become a second nature to him.

"You have something to hide?" she said with a sneer, giving up.

"No, but this doesn't mean I enjoy the idea of you perusing my memories."

"I want to know what happened to my sister!"

"Believe me, so do I."

His calm manner infuriated her. She approached him, her nostrils flaring. "You were the last person to see Draco alive," she hissed. "I don't care what you say, I _know _you had something to do with their disappearance."

"I know you think so," he said coolly. "You made it quite clear over the past week."

"Where are they?" she demanded, her voice low but menacing.

"I don't know."

"You _know, _and you are going to tell me."

"I don't know," he said, stressing each word. "And I am tired of you and all the others who never cease to doubt me even after everything I have done for the Dark Lord. If you have a _reason _to believe I'm hiding them, I'd like to hear it."

Bellatrix looked at him for a moment before she spoke again. "I don't have one. But I know you did it. You can't fool me."

"I told you that Draco left Hogwarts before I did and I don't know where he went from there. I went to the Malfoy Mansion as soon as I left Hogwarts, but it was already empty."

The sharp lines on Bellatrix's expression seemed to loosen up as she started to realise that the man was probably telling the truth. She averted her gaze and absently walked up to one of the windows, to look outside through the thin slit the curtains were allowing. Then, she turned back to him. "I'm leaving." And, without another word, she walked outside the small house.

A wry smile appeared on Snape's lips when the door closed behind her. This should buy them some time.

**-End of chapter 5-**


	6. Full Moon

Thank you for reading so far. Here is chapter 6.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :)

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna.

-----

**-Chapter 6: Full moon-**

Tonks stared sadly at the muddy content of the large cauldron.

_What did I do wrong _this _time?_

And to think that she had a NEWT in Potions... not to mention the additional classes in the Auror Academy... It was absurd, really. She had measured the quantities of each ingredient three times, had taken great care of the stirring, had even bought a Potion Time-Ticker to keep track of exactly when to add each ingredient and how long to keep it on the fire. And yet, it had gone wrong for the... what? Eighth time? Or maybe ninth. She wasn't really counting anymore.

She was still moping over it when she heard someone stepping in the living room. She looked up from the cauldron over the kitchen island, which was giving her a clear view of the living room. Remus had just walked in from the fireplace.

"Hey," he greeted, making his way towards her. "What've you got there?"

"Failed Wolfsbane Potion."

With a warm smile, he approached and wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you."

"Of course, it wouldn't have helped you much now, but I was hoping that maybe Bill could use it," she mumbled. "In case he needed a tranquiliser or something."

Remus only stroked her back in way of replying. She smiled; how he knew her... For her, no amount of words could ever have the effect one of his caresses did.

"You know," she said, "I think that if I keep trying on a daily basis, I might get the hang of it in time for the next full moon."

"You've got better things to do," he said, although he knew she would completely ignore this comment.

She looked up at him. "So, what are you doing tonight?"

"I'm staying home; I thought we had already discussed that."

"The Weasleys really want you to go to the Burrow," she said seriously. "I stopped by again yesterday and they all pleaded with me to make you change your mind. Bill in particular wants you to know he'll be feeling much more at ease knowing a fellow werewolf is by his side."

"If I knew I could keep myself under control, I'd go. But the way things are now..."

"It's Bill's first full moon," she insisted. "He needs you there, if only until the full moon rises. And Molly said she locked the attic ghoul in her bedroom's wardrobe so that you can spend the night in there."

He smiled. "A whole attic just for me, huh?"

"Yes, and think of the lovely breakfast she'll make you in the morning!"

He shook his head. "I wish I could go. But I've explained to them -"

"No, no, no," she cut him. "I don't want to hear it. You're coming."

He raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"You are."

He couldn't suppress a grin at her stubbornness. "You and all the Weasleys are expelled from the Order as of now," he said in what he hoped to pass through as an authoritative tone.

"Good," she said, completely bypassing the fake threat. "You'll be at the Burrow by eight o'clock. Otherwise, I'll come pick you up – and none too gently, might I add."

He laughed, then looked back at her with a loving expression. "It's good to have you back."

She finally allowed a smile to spread on her face, and then something crossed her mind. "You don't think I've changed?"

"Changed?"

"Fleur said I have."

He studied her face as if looking for signs of the change. "No, I don't think you've changed," he eventually said. "Maybe matured a bit."

"Some would say it was about time," she said with a sly grin.

"Don't pay attention to them."

"_You _were one of them."

"That was only once, I barely knew you, and you had just Transfigured my slippers into bunnies. It doesn't count."

She buried her face on his chest, laughing at the memory of that evening in Grimmauld Place. "That was fun."

"It was."

After several moments of taking in the warmth of his body, she leaned back and met his eyes again. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"I couldn't afford not to."

One day before and one after the full moon, the wolfish hormones made sleeping impossible. The resulting exhaustion, intensified by the pain and anguish that came with the transformations, was one of the worst aspects of lycanthropy.

"Don't tire yourself out," Tonks said. "Go home and relax, read a book or something." She kissed his lips. "I'll see you at the Burrow."

"All right." He kissed her back. "I love you."

"I love you too."

With one last look at her, he walked to the fireplace and headed home. Tonks stayed in the kitchen to clean her cauldron for the eighth, or maybe ninth, time.

-----

Despite being a grown man, Bill could not help but feel moved at the sight of all the people who had gathered to help him through his first full moon. Everyone who really mattered in his life was there; his parents, his brothers – except Ron, who was stranded in a Muggle house, and Percy, who was so busy being a prat he probably didn't even know Bill had got bitten – his sister, his fiancée, and his good friends, Remus and Tonks. He was very grateful that they all seemed willing to spend this night near him, crammed in this small room. Especially since he felt a little worried about what was to come.

Fleur had dragged a stool near his bed and was holding his hands in hers. It was amazing how the touch of her skin could soothe him. He smiled at her.

"How much time do we have yet?" Ginny asked.

Arthur glanced at the moon calendar behind him, then checked his watch. "Three minutes."

"Let's go get me locked up," Remus said. "You don't want me to transform in here."

"Will you be all right?" Tonks asked worriedly, running her hand on his sweaty forehead.

"As always."

He headed out the room with Arthur, who would lock him in the attic and secure the door. Tonks let out a sigh and sat on the edge of Bill's bed. "How are you feeling?"

Bill squirmed. "...Edgy."

"Could be worse," Fred said, discreetly pointing at Molly. She had been pacing around the room in nervousness, making everybody else nervous as well, until Charlie had pulled her into an embrace to calm her down. Now she was sitting near the window, staring out at the darkening sky.

"You know," Bill said, "wouldn't it be better if you tied me up or something? Just for good measure. And maybe you should move away, stand near the door -"

"Bill?" Tonks cut him. "You're acting like Remus. Snap out of it."

The young man shrugged, a small smile on his lips. "I'm beginning to understand him."

"Don't worry," Fred said with a confident smile. "We'll take good care of you." He and George were positioned on either side of Bill's bed, armed with their wands. They'd be ready to act if Bill's transformation made him dangerous.

Arthur returned in the room. "I locked Remus up," he said and glanced again at his watch. "It's about -"

His sentence was cut short as a blood-chilling howl came from the room above. All eyes shot upwards, overloaded with shock.

"Merlin..." George whispered. "The poor bloke."

Then, a gasp from Bill's direction turned everyone's attention to him. He was panting and clenching his fists as reddish-brown hair was starting to grow all over his body.

"Bill!" Fleur grasped his hands, which he had withdrawn. She felt them changing, fingers turning shorter and nails growing longer and sharper.

"I'm fine," he breathed, then let a short scream and shifted on his pillow in obvious agony, as his face started to morph. His nose and jaw stretched, forming a short, slightly canine-like snout, while his ears became pointy and slid upwards on his head. With one last heavy gasp, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"That must have hurt," Charlie commented gloomily.

"Not _that _much," Bill growled and pointed at the ceiling. Remus was still screaming.

"How do you feel?" Fleur asked.

"Weird..." He abruptly opened his eyes and dug underneath the sheets he was covered with. "I've got a _tail_."

A small snicker ran the room.

"Your mind is still human, though," Fred optimistically pointed out.

Bill's 'yes' came out more like a bark. "For the most part." He winced. This half-human, half-wolf appearance, combined with the growl-like voice, made him feel as if he were in a bad Halloween costume. Or back in McGonagall's class, in the mercy of an incompetent classmate.

"For the most part...?" George cautiously questioned.

"Yeah. For example, I feel rather _short-tempered_," Bill growled, baring sharp teeth.

"You're not kidding, are you."

"Nope."

George took one step back.

-----

Pettigrew drew the curtains slightly ajar and fixed his small, watery eyes upon the glowing orb in the sky.

"The moon's full," he whispered.

"I know," Snape said apathetically from across the room, without lifting his eyes from the book he was reading in the dim light of the candle floating near him.

Pettigrew turned to glance at him, then his eyes returned to the moon.

There had been a time when he had been looking forward to nights like this one. It was so clear in his memory, and yet... it felt like a lifetime ago. Come to think of it, that's what it had been; another life, when he had been somebody else.

Hard as he tried, he couldn't find any traces of that somebody in himself anymore. It was ironic, to say the least, that he was stranded in this house, assisting – no, _serving _– the person he had helped prank so many times in that other life. That somebody, the one he had once been, would have pulled out his wand, knowing he'd be fighting a lost battle and yet fighting it all the same. That somebody had been weak in magic, but strong in spirit.

Yes, it was true. He was aware that many had regarded him as James Potter's and Sirius Black's tagalong, but they had been mistaken. As far as their friendship went, he had been their equal. It hadn't been submission to the strong ones or fanatic admiration that had brought him close to them and Remus Lupin; it was genuine interest in those people, interest that they had returned to the maximum, by helping him every time he had needed it and covering for his weaknesses.

When they had been roaming around Hogsmeade, the four of them together, it hadn't even crossed his mind he'd end up betraying them, sending them to their doom in this most awful, disloyal way. That somebody had been brave, courageous; nothing like the traitor that was gazing out the window.

What had happened to that somebody, then? Where had he gone? When had he vanished, leaving behind this shadow of a human?

He had been... tempted. Tricked. Offered what he had never had; power, magical abilities beyond his wildest dreams. What was the point in refusing such a gift?

_There is no good and evil... there is only power, and those too weak to seek it..._

That somebody had not been weak... if power was something he could find so simply, he would do it...

_You think power is only talent? NO! It's effort, it's making the right choices, it's the way you handle every little moment in your life! _

Why had he interpreted these words in such a wrong way?

_It's a war. And it's the Dark Lord who's got the power to win it. Unless you join him, you'll end up dead. Is that what you want?_

No! Of course it wasn't! But the whole concept was all wrong from the beginning... the Dark Lord would have never had the power to win this war if he hadn't tricked so many people into believing in his power...

And, still, despite all the followers he had gathered, despite all the cruel, dark magic he had mastered, he had been no match for a mother's love for her son. _There _lay the true power, in the hearts of those who loved! In the end, the Dark Lord had lost the war; love had won.

Pettigrew had had the true power... and he had lost it. Wrong judgement? Greed? Stupidity? Did it make a difference one way or another?

If only he had seen it earlier... before it was too late to back out. Before the brave boy turned into a pathetic liar, before the loyal friend became a filthy traitor.

_I should have left._

Whatever the reason for staying had been, the result was one and the same.

He could leave now, of course... if he had the courage. The courage he had given in exchange for learning how to handle the Dark Arts. But the person he had become did not have the strength to reclaim it.

Peter Pettigrew had given up everything, including himself, to chase an illusion of safety and strength. The illusion had been crushed, but he was still there. Loyal to a master who, even if he won, he wouldn't stay; because men like him never stayed. The people who possessed the true power always won in the end. Pettigrew didn't have the true power; sooner or later, his end would come. And the people he had once known and loved, the people he had called friends, would be there to look down on him and call him an unworthy, lying piece of scum. Nobody would cry for him, nobody would be sorry to see his doom.

If anything, at least it was somewhat comforting to know he would get what he deserved.

**-End of chapter 6-**

**P.S.:** The story where Tonks Transfigures Remus's slippers into bunnies can be found here.


	7. Family Affairs

Thank you for reading so far. Here is chapter 7. My apologies for the delay; I was away from home last weekend, and then my computer broke down and it took me a while to fix it, so I didn't have a chance to update until now.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :) Also, to Carole and Magaly, for double-checking my French :)

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy reading.

Anna :)

**-Chapter 7: Family affairs-**

Hermione examined the violet liquid bubbling in the cauldron.

"It's going very well," she said with an approving nod. "Time to add the grapefruit juice, right?"

Ron skimmed the instructions and read aloud. "_'One week after the full moon, add one drop of grapefruit juice'... _Yep."

Harry filled a dropper with grapefruit juice and handed it to Hermione, but when she pressed it, it burst out and a dosage about ten times the recommended dripped in the cauldron.

"Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Now what?" Hermione started to panic.

"Can we summon it out or something?" Ron tried, watching a bright yellow streak unwind in the surface.

"Chopped tea leaves," Harry remembered.

"What?"

"Grapefruit is acid, right? Tea leaves absorb acids."

Hermione decided not to argue with that at such a pressing moment. "Do we have any tea leaves?"

Harry dashed out of the cupboard to search in the kitchen. Ron and Hermione could hear the sounds of cupboard doors being slammed open and closed, saucepans clanging, containers being violently displaced and a high-pitched screech of "What are you _doing_?"

Harry returned with a few black tea leaves crumpled in his hand. He walked over to the small surface they had magically installed in the corner and with swift movements chopped them into tiny pieces. Then, he dropped them in the cauldron, holding his breath in anticipation.

As the little pieces floated in the surface, the yellow streak seemed to break into small threads, each of which circled around one of the pieces and disappeared.

"I hope I got the dosage right," Harry mumbled.

Ron observed the liquid, then looked at the instructions again. "'_Once the grapefruit juice is added, the colour of the potion should lighten up slightly, resembling that of a pansy.'_ I'd say we're good, mate."

"Where did you find that trick?" Hermione asked Harry.

"In the Pensieve. In fact, I think there might be a couple more tricks," he added thoughtfully. "I'll take another trip in there to make sure I've got everything there is."

"Snape?" she asked.

"Who else?"

Ron left the book aside and cast a protective spell on the cauldron; the small cupboard was full of dust and spiders, and they didn't want anything falling in the potion and ruining it. "In seven days from now, we add the last ingredients and it's done."

"Great," Hermione said.

The three teenagers exited the cupboard and cast the usual protective spells, so that the Dursleys wouldn't be able to enter. Of course, Harry was sure none of them would walk in that cupboard ever again, now that it had been 'sullied' with magic, but it never hurt to be careful.

On their way to Harry's bedroom, they came face to face with Dudley. Upon seeing them, he put on his usual façade of bravado, complete with clenched fists and angry look, but his act wasn't very convincing as he stepped backwards, putting as much distance between them as he could. Hermione shook her head in dismay.

"This is so pathetic it's funny," Ron commented, when the blond boy disappeared in his room.

Harry shrugged and entered the room. A big package wrapped in brown paper was resting on the bed; Hedwig, Pigwidgeon and a brown owl were sitting on it. The moment Ron got in, Pig flew straight to Ron's nose.

"Ah, Bill's response," Ron said and untied the envelope from Pig's leg, while Harry went to release the package from the other two owls' legs. The two birds flew to Hedwig's cage to have some food and water. Then, the red-headed boy sat on the chair by the desk and began reading aloud.

"'_Dear Ron,_

_Good to hear the three of you are fine. We all were wondering how you were doing. Particularly Mum._

_Full moon went fine; thanks for asking. My transformation stops halfway. I keep my human mind, for the most part, but lose all magical ability. Could be worse, I suppose._

_Regarding the advanced spellbooks you asked for, I actually had a good number of textbooks I used during my training as a Curse-Breaker. I am sending you a selection of these; books on offensive and defensive magic, and, as you asked, a book on Dark objects and artefacts. If you need any more, owl me, although I suppose they should be more than enough for the rest of your stay with Harry's family._

_I also bought the potions ingredients you asked me for. The gold Harry sent was more than the necessary; the rest of it is enclosed in an envelope in the package._

_You have greetings from everyone, all three of you, and we all look forward to seeing you back home._

_Take care,_

_Bill.'_"

"Let's see what he's got for us, then," Hermione said eagerly; the thought of new, fascinating books was highly appealing to her. "Can I open it?"

"Sure," Ron said with a casual shrug.

She tore the paper off the package, revealing a pile of books and, on top of it, a smaller package wrapped in white paper. "Those must be the potion ingredients," she said and put it on Harry's hand, then picked up the first book of the pile – _Dark and Darkened: Detect and Destroy_ – and started going over the contents list. Once at the bottom, she let out a cry of enthusiasm. "There's a chapter on Horcruxes!"

She quickly found the page and they started to read all together.

"'_Horcruxes are considered the evillest of Darkened objects_'..." Harry read aloud. "What are Darkened objects?"

"Objects that were manufactured as neutral and were turned Dark by magic," Hermione explained. "As opposed to Dark objects, which are Dark in their making."

"Oh."

The book offered detailed information on Horcruxes, with entries on what they were used for, how to spot them, fight them and destroy them. The three teenagers were not surprised to read that a piece of soul stored in a carefully chosen object could be used as a mortal weapon – as had been the case with Riddle's diary. The most disturbing example was that of a wizard back in the eighteenth century that had turned a scarecrow into a Horcrux, basically turning it into a second him, with all his mental and magical abilities.

Proceeding to the paragraph titled _Destruction_, they found that there were three ways to destroy a Horcrux: by ruining the object, the piece of soul within it or the bond that joined them. All of them involved rather advanced magic abilities, and the author of the book was specifically accentuating the fact that a wizard who created a Horcrux was sure to bind it with additional curses, to ensure its safety.

"We're on a good path," Harry said, pointing at a list of potions that had the ability to damage a piece of soul stored within a Horcrux. Among them was the one they had been brewing, the Atrocitas Venomis.

"Good," Hermione said, relieved. "I was afraid it wouldn't be strong enough."

"And these lists will be very useful too," Harry added, pointing at a table that listed the curses that could be proven useful in destroying Horcruxes, organised by function. "Let's see how many of them we have instructions on."

The three teenagers grabbed one book each and started going through the contents lists, marking the curses from the table for future reference.

* * *

The Weasley household was jammed with anticipation. The Delacours had arrived in the country the previous day and today they would visit the Burrow, to meet their soon to be in-laws. Molly had gone to great pains to ensure everything would be perfect; the Delacour family was wealthy and well-respected, but most importantly, it was Fleur's family. Molly didn't want to risk giving a bad impression to them and causing problems to Bill and Fleur's relationship.

By seven, the Weasley family – bar Ron and Percy, as was expected – was gathered in the sitting room, expecting the guests. When the doorbell rang, Molly jolted up with such haste she startled everyone.

"Mum, relax," Bill said as he went to answer the door. Fleur was standing at the doorstep, beaming with beauty in her elegant pink robe, her parents and little sister behind her. "Bonsoir, ma chérie," he said and gave a light kiss on Fleur's cheek. "Gabrielle, ça va ?" he said, giving the girl a smile before returning to Fleur's parents. "Madame, Monsieur, c'est un plaisir de vous revoir." He kissed Mme Delacour's hand and shook hands with Mr Delacour, then gestured for them to come inside and began the introductions. "This is Monsieur Antoine Delacour, his wife, Juliette, and Gabrielle, their daughter..."

Mr Delacour was a tall, pleasant-looking wizard with tanned skin, black hair and a small moustache. Mme Delacour was the striking opposite, not only because of the fair skin and long, silvery-blond hair marking her Veela heritage, but also because of her haughty expression. Upon the introductions, she forced a smile and pulled Gabrielle closer to her; the girl looked quite stressed.

Bill, who had met the Delacours during the previous summer, when he had spent a few days in France with them, was quite at ease; however, he didn't fail to notice the atmosphere in the room was quite heavy. He met his fiancée's gaze, and, upon receiving an imperceptible nod from her, proceeded with starting a work-related conversation between his father, Charlie and Mr Delacour, while Fleur urged Molly and Mme Delacour together to chat about the wedding preparations. Fred, George and Ginny found a mission on entertaining Gabrielle, and soon the room was buzzing with conversation.

The evening was going as Bill had expected. His father and Mr Delacour, quite similar personalities with many common interests, had got along from the first moment. His mother and Mme Delacour, on the other hand, were as different as one could get; but thankfully, Mme Delacour showed at least some interest in the details of the wedding. As for Gabrielle, she was fascinated with the games the twins thought up and the tricks they showed her.

"Should I go serve the dinner?" Molly asked around eight o'clock.

"Zat would be lovely," Mme Delacour said stiffly. "But, while you do zat, I would like to have a word wis my daughter. Is zere a spare woom we could use?"

Molly hesitated. "Only the bedrooms... but you could go to the kitchen, and I'll serve the dinner once you're done."

"Good, zen. Sank you."

Fleur rose and led her mother to the kitchen. Molly decided to go over and see how the men were doing.

She found them engaged in a conversation about politics. Mr Delacour was talking in a heated fashion, accompanying his speech with intense gestures. He spoke English with remarkable ease, since his work as a director in a multinational potion-making company demanded it, but there was still something slightly foreign about his accent.

"...The country is divided. Half the people want the Ministry to sever all ties with Britain, the rest think the only thing we can do is reinforce our army and Auror forces. To tell you the truth, the public security systems in France are awful. The private guard companies make enormous profits taking advantage of this."

"Then the Ministry could strike a deal with them," Charlie suggested.

"That would be like admitting they cannot deal with it on their own, and the Ministry has a very fat ego."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yeah, all Ministries do."

Suddenly, all conversations in the room halted as an angry voice came from inside the kitchen.

"...un loup-garou mutilé ! Ça suffit !"

_(...a mutilated werewolf! That's the last drop!)_

Bill winced. He had hoped that the liking Mme Delacour had taken towards him since she had met him would have made her overlook his new status. Looking around, he caught the bemused looks on all of his family members' faces and felt thankful none of them spoke French. He wouldn't have liked to see Fred or George taking revenge on Mme Delacour for that comment of hers.

"Forgive my wife," Mr Delacour said, looking very embarrassed. "She has a bad temper. Our daughters too, in fact; it must be the Veela blood in them."

"Oh, it's all right," Molly reassured him with a big smile. "Let them settle their -"

"La beauté !" It was Fleur who was now screaming. "C'est tout ce qui t'intéresse, la beauté ? Depuis que je suis arrivée ici, je n'ai vu que la mort et le malheur, et tu me parles de beauté ? Je m'en fous, tu comprends ? Peut-être qu'il est l'homme le plus laid du monde, mais je l'aime, il m'aime, nous allons nous marier, et toi, tu devrais être fier qu'un héros tel que Bill Weasley veuille épouser ta fille !"

_(Beauty! Is that all you care about? Since I came here, I've only seen death and misery, and you're telling me about beauty? I don't care, do you get it? He may be the ugliest man in the world, but I love him, he loves me, we're going to get married, and you, you should be proud that a hero such as Bill Weasley would want to marry your daughter!)_

All heads turned to Bill. A small smile of gratitude towards his fiancée crawled its way upon his deformed face.

"Je suis d'accord avec ma fille," Mr Delacour said earnestly, patting the young man on the back.

_(I agree with my daughter.)_

"Je vous remercie."

_(Thank you.)_

The voices from the kitchen had lowered considerably, the words spoken now indiscernible. Mr Delacour leaned back in the sofa and rubbed his chin in a gesture of awkwardness, while Bill did his best to avoid his family's looks. Their stares were falling alternatively on him and the door, and he realised that such a clear mention of his name had at least given them a hint on what was going on in the kitchen.

An eternity seemed to pass until the two women finally returned to the sitting room, Fleur with a face flaring in agitation, Mme Delacour cold and haughty as earlier, but with an added air of anger haunting her beautiful characteristics.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Fleur said. "If you would like, Madame, I will come 'elp you serve the dinner."

Molly understood that Fleur didn't want to be near her mother right now – and who knew, maybe she felt the need to talk about what had just happened in the kitchen. "That would be lovely, dear."

The two of them left the room, while Mme Delacour sat in the sofa beside her husband, apparently in a huff. The three Weasley men exchanged glances and Arthur quickly excused himself, claiming he needed to use the bathroom, while Bill and Charlie decided they should go see how the kids were doing. They left Mr and Mme Delacour alone to discuss their issues and went to join the game of Exploding Snap taking place at the opposite corner of the room.

The rest of the evening went along smoothly, despite the moodiness of Fleur and Mme Delacour. Mr Delacour, in particular, who was finding the company of the Weasleys extremely enjoyable, was rather talkative during the dinner. He sat between Bill and his wife on the table and when he was not praising Molly's cooking, he was talking to everyone about everything, from economics to Quidditch. By the end of the evening, his relaxed, unassuming manner had won over all the Weasleys.

After dinner, they all returned to the sitting room for a drink, but the pleasant company was still shadowed by Mme Delacour's bad humour. Fleur, thankfully, had calmed down a bit, but she was practically clinging onto Bill all the time, something her mother did not appreciate at all. Mr Delacour soon decided it was time that they all left, and the evening between the two families was drawn to an end.

As soon as the Delacours left, Bill found himself cornered by his twin brothers.

"What were Fleur and Madame Delacour fighting about?" Fred demanded. "Gabrielle wouldn't say."

"Madame Delacour doesn't want you to marry Fleur, does she," George guessed correctly.

Bill noticed they had all gathered around him, with the exception of his mother, who was discreetly distancing herself from the questioning squad. Obviously, Fleur had already told her everything. Bill didn't mind that; but, for some reason, he didn't want to discuss that particular issue. At least, not for the time being.

"No, she doesn't," he said simply. "But it's none of her business."

Ginny grinned and patted her brother's arm approvingly. Not long ago, she would have scowled and thrown some bitter comment that would clearly indicate Fleur wasn't a match for Bill. But things had changed. After Bill had been attacked by Greyback, Fleur's attitude had proved to everyone that she wasn't the snotty, shallow girl they had all pictured; and while Ginny didn't like finding herself in the wrong, she was genuinely happy that her brother had found someone who loved him so much to spend his life with.

He deserved it.

* * *

One week later, at number four, Privet Drive, three heads were leaning over a cauldron full of ready and bubbling Atrocitas Venomis potion.

"Looks perfect," Hermione commented. "Time to store it."

The three teenagers used their wands to make the liquid flow into glass bottles they had previously reinforced with Durability Charms; this was a highly toxic potion common glass couldn't hold, and the contact with bare skin could have very nasty results.

The contents of the cauldron were enough to fill up about a dozen bottles. Afterwards, they collected everything they needed from the cupboard, made sure everything was clean, removed everything they had magically installed to help them with their potion-making and then Ron and Harry carried everything upstairs, while Hermione stayed behind to undo the magic they had been using to keep the Dursleys away from the cupboard. When she joined them in the bedroom, they were almost done packing.

"I put some of the bottles in your trunk," Ron told her. "They didn't fit in mine."

"OK. Did you get all the books?"

"Yep."

"Your writing supplies are still in the drawer, Hermione," Harry reminded her.

She rushed to pack them, while the boys started to rummage around for anything they might have left behind. When they made sure they had everything packed, they took their trunks downstairs.

The Dursleys were all gathered in the living room, positioned in the sofas so as to have a clear view of the hallway, looking full of some strange kind of anticipation. They hadn't bothered to hide their relief upon hearing that their imposed guests would be finally leaving, but Harry had imagined the departure to be rather uneventful; he had even doubted Dudley would stay home to watch it, instead of going to wreak havoc with his friends. But, on the other hand, he had spent so many years with them that he had become a part of their lives, whether they liked it or not... leaving for good surely felt as strange to them as it did to him. And even if he couldn't find it in himself to feel moved, he owed them for keeping them in this home where he was safe from Dark magic; it was good to know he could at least thank them for it and bid them farewell, even if it was going to feel insincere and forced.

"We're leaving," he said, waving a hand at them. "The cupboard's clear, if you want to use it."

"Goodbye," Hermione said. "Thank you for letting us stay here this past month."

"Yeah, thank you," Ron said curtly.

"Bye," Harry said, "and thanks for everything."

He watched with some indistinct sense of sorrow as the only family he had ever known made vague gestures and mumbled some words of goodbye. Then, without the slightest hesitation or regret, he led his friends outside the small house to take the Knight Bus to the Burrow.

**-End of chapter 7-**


	8. The Azkaban Raid

Thank you for reading so far. Here's chapter 8.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :)

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy reading. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.

Anna :)

-----

**-Chapter 8: The Azkaban raid-**

The journey with the Knight Bus was rather uneventful. The Bus was much more quiet now that Stan Shunpike wasn't conducting; the new conductor, a blond boy in his early twenties with freckles on the cheeks, didn't do much more than collecting the fees and announcing the stops. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in the seats just behind the driver.

About half an hour later, they arrived at the Burrow. As soon as the bus stopped by the garden entrance, Molly appeared, screaming happily.

"Bill! Charlie! Ginny! The kids are here!"

The warm welcome was a very pleasant change for the three teenagers that had passed the past month being ignored or feared. Bill, Charlie and Ginny all rushed outside and many hugs and pats on the back followed. Afterwards, they all helped in carrying the trunks to the bedrooms, and once done with that they went to sit and chat in the sitting room.

"Thanks for the books, Bill," Hermione told the young man. "They were great help."

"You're welcome," he said with a smile. "So, you've been practicing?"

"You won't believe the curses your brother can perform now." She winked and gave a slight nudge to Ron. He seemed to be slightly embarrassed.

"So you're going to hunt him down," Charlie assumed.

Harry nodded, his expression serious. The reminder of that mission never failed to darken his mood. Luckily for him, Ginny spotted this.

"Come on," she scolded Charlie, "they've spent the past month on their own, training, give them a moment to take their minds away from that! Why can't you ask them whether they like beige or grey better?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up, confused, but Charlie gave a sly smile. This had been the family's newest anecdote. "Now that you mention..." he said to Ginny and turned to the three teenagers sitting on the sofa opposite him. "Which colour would you like better on Bill, beige or grey?"

Hermione studied Bill for a moment, ignoring the somewhat annoyed look he was throwing at Charlie. "Beige suits his hair colour better, I think," she concluded.

"Ron?" Charlie prompted his younger brother, with a self-satisfied smirk.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess Hermione's right."

"I'd like grey better, though," Harry commented. "For contrast with his dark skin."

"Two versus one," Charlie told Bill, the smirk now broader. "I told you you should've gone for the beige coat."

Bill shook his head adamantly. "The grey one was the best."

"The beige."

"The grey."

"The beige."

"The grey."

-----

In the Riddle House, a group of twenty Death Eaters had gathered, waiting for the final instructions from their master regarding their upcoming mission.

"I think we have covered all bases," Voldemort announced. "Bella, you take it from here."

Bellatrix bowed respectfully and addressed her colleagues. "Before we leave, I'll Disillusion all of you. And your broomsticks. Come near me, one by one."

The Death Eaters formed a line before her and she personally Disillusioned each one of them. Last in line was Snape.

"Are you sure about that?" she asked with a malicious smile.

"Don't stall," he spat at her.

She Disillusioned him and his broomstick, then stood still as her husband performed the charm on her. She then led the group outside.

"Hold hands, everyone," she ordered. They all joined hands and Side-Along Apparated in the coast right outside Sunderland, the nearest Apparition-approachable place to the Azkaban Island.

"On your brooms, everyone," Bellatrix instructed. "I'm leading, and I want everyone behind me. On three. One... two... three!"

The group departed, heading eastwards.

-----

Since the Dementors had left Azkaban, its protection had been handed over to the Auror force. Twelve Aurors were always there, guarding the small island and the prisoners.

One of them, a young, pretty woman, was sitting up in the Observation Tower, wrapped in a black coat to protect herself from the cold wind. Her trained eyes had been tirelessly scanning the surrounding area for hours, until she spotted some unusual flashes coming from the west.

She picked up a red, cone-shaped funnel and spoke in it. "Observation Tower calling Control Room. Magical activity observed westwards. Seems like an attempt to break through the barrier and reach the island."

A male voice responded from inside the cone. "Identify intruders, Observation Tower."

"Unable to." She then directed a big, telescope-like instrument towards the direction of the flashes and looked through. "Magiscope detecting Disillusionment Charms. I'd say about twenty people."

"Sending a team to defend the barrier," the voice replied. "Stay on the watch."

The woman watched as two figures flew on broomsticks towards the source of the flashes. One of them cast a spell that sent a red glow all over the Disillusioned figures, making them slowly appear. The woman zoomed in with the Magiscope, and her eyes widened in horror as she recognised the faces that appeared.

"Marco!" she called in the funnel. "They're Death Eaters!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"Signal emergency alert, I'll contact the Ministry for reinforcements."

Her heart beating fast, the woman pulled out her wand and cast a spell that sent a red ring floating above the Azkaban Island.

"Lisa?" Marco's voice came from inside the funnel.

"I did it," she said, snatching the funnel again. "Now what?"

"Stay in the Tower, fight from up there if you need to. Limard stays in place to guard the prisoners; Maddox, Mendelsohn and Holdrey move to the west and stay on ground, the rest are joining me at the fight!" he ordered.

"Quick!" Lisa said, focusing back to the battle. "Emerson is down!"

-----

The black-haired man who was on ground patrol looked at the red ring in the sky with concern, then grabbed the funnel that was tied to his waistband and brought it near his mouth. "Marco? What's going on?"

"Limard stays in place to guard the prisoners; Maddox, Mendelsohn and Holdrey move to the west and stay on ground, the rest are joining me at the fight!" he heard his captain's voice.

"What fight?"

"Death Eaters on the west side. Move there, Reyton, but do _not _leave the ground, is that clear?"

"OK, Marco." He made to put the funnel back to his waistband, when he noticed his partner running away. "Phiglia!" he called out to her. "Where are you going?"

The girl turned around, her curly, brown hair flowing in the wind. "You go on, I'll be right there!"

She ran to the nearest column and hid behind it. Making sure she was out of everybody's view, she pulled out a piece of parchment with the picture of a big phoenix from inside her cloak.

"Phiglia Maddox," she said as she tapped it. The picture disappeared and the Order of the Phoenix Members Schedule appeared in its place. She quickly conjured her Patronus, a silver pigeon, and read out the names of the available active members. "Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, George Weasley, Molly Weasley... this is Phiglia Maddox, Azkaban is being attacked by Death Eaters! We need immediate help!"

She made a shooing gesture to the pigeon, which faded and vanished, leaving the island to go find the recipients of that message.

-----

Back at the Burrow, the conversation had focused on Charlie. Harry, Ron and Hermione hadn't seen him at all, since they were already at Privet Drive by the time he had arrived, so they had started showering him with questions about his life and his future plans.

"...maybe at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but I don't know yet," he was saying. "If there are going to be many battles, I'd rather be available anytime."

"If there are going to be many battles, work will be the least of your problems," Bill said, leaning back in the sofa.

"True."

At that moment, the silver pigeon appeared in the centre of the room, and started to fly around Bill and Charlie's heads.

"Do you recognise this Patronus?" Bill asked his brother.

"No."

"Let's go get the message," he said and got up. "We'll be back in a second, kids."

The two young men went to the kitchen. Ginny watched them with a slightly annoyed expression.

"Don't you think we're a little old to be called 'kids'?" she grumbled, once the kitchen door was closed.

"They're your elder brothers," Hermione said, chuckling. "You'll always be a kid to them."

Ginny grimaced and leaned back on the sofa, her fingers unconsciously picking on the fabric. Moments later, Bill, Charlie and Molly burst in the room, carrying one broomstick each.

"There's a Death Eater attack going on at Azkaban, we're headed right there," Bill explained hastily. "The four of you stay here and don't go anywhere. This is _not _a battle for you." He gestured to Charlie and Molly. "Come on, quick."

Before any of the teenagers had time to even open their mouths, the three Weasleys rushed out of the house, to Disapparate to Sunderland.

"Another Death Eater attack," Ginny sighed.

"They went to free their fellows, without a doubt," Harry said.

"And what are we supposed to do, stay here and wait?" Ron said, exasperated. "We should go with them!"

"No..." Harry said slowly, thoughtfully. "Bill's right. This is not a battle for us. It's not the Death Eaters we should be worried about. The Order exists to take care of them, so that we can focus on Voldemort."

Ginny looked at him; the realisation of the path Harry was destined to walk was even greater now that she saw his face, so calm and so determined at the same time. He was admirable.

Harry didn't notice the faint smile that crawled upon her lips.

-----

The battle was intense, but lasted very little. In barely more than five minutes the barrier was down and the eight Aurors plus five of the Death Eaters were in the freezing sea. Five more of them stayed behind to help their fellows, while the rest of them flew to the island and landed on the west coast, where Reyton Mendelsohn, Phiglia Maddox and Brass Holdrey were waiting to fight them. Unfortunately for the Aurors, though, the odds were against them. Soon, all three of them were down and the Death Eaters were marching in the building. Bellatrix led the group to the cages ward. The keeper of the cages, Grianna Limard, was waiting for them, but she was one versus ten. She shot a few curses at them, but with a Killing Curse Bellatrix finished her once and for all.

Satisfied, the black-haired woman walked over to the first cage, where Walden Macnair was locked. She tapped the lock and said "Alohomora", but it remained locked.

"They've put additional protection on the cages," Macnair explained. "There's a special spell that needs to be performed by an Auror."

Bellatrix frowned and turned to look at Grianna. "This one's dead. Maybe one of those outside is still alive, though. Accio Aurors."

Three unconscious bodies flew inside the gates and all the way to the cages ward, where they were dumped before the Death Eaters' feet.

"This one's still alive," Jugson said, noticing Phiglia's chest faintly heaving up and down.

"Let me do it." Snape stepped forward. He knew that girl... she was a fellow Order member, and, many years ago, had been his student at Hogwarts... "Rennervate."

Phiglia sighed, but didn't wake up. Snape tried again.

"For Merlin's sake," Bellatrix said, disgusted. "Crucio!"

Phiglia awoke with a gasp and started screaming.

"What are you doing?" Snape berated the black-haired woman, lifting the curse. "We _need _her!"

"Being polite won't take us anywhere," Bellatrix snorted.

In the meantime, Phiglia had recovered and was sitting down, taking deep breaths.

"Get up and open the doors," Snape ordered her.

She looked up at him. "You!" she spat, her expression one of pure revulsion. She rose to her feet and fixed him with a deadly glare.

"Open the doors," he repeated.

"No."

"_Imperio_."

The girl closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to keep the effect of the curse away, but moments later she was under Snape's control. He made her take Grianna's wand and free all the Death Eaters that had been imprisoned, who happily joined their colleagues. Then, Snape lifted the spell and Stunned her.

Bellatrix threw him a look of disdain, then decided to move on to the more pressing matters. "Those who don't have a broomstick will ride with someone who does. We're heading to Sunderland, and from there we'll be Apparating to the Dark Lord's house."

"Lucius will be coming with me," Snape said, taking a step near him.

"Lucius in particular -"

"_Lucius will be coming with me,_" Snape repeated sternly, cutting Bellatrix in mid-sentence. "I'm his friend, and it's my job."

"And I'm his sister-in-law -"

"What is going on here?" Lucius asked impatiently.

"You're coming with me, Lucius," Snape said calmly. "And that's final," he added, throwing a warning look at Bellatrix.

"Do I need to remind you that _I'm _the one in charge here?" she said, eyes flashing.

Instead of replying, Snape pointed his wand at her. "Do not make me prove you I'm not as polite as you think I am."

Bellatrix knew she was fighting a lost battle and gave up. "All right. Get moving, everyone. The others are waiting for us outside."

-----

The Death Eaters were halfway to Sunderland, when they spotted a large group coming towards them.

"Aurors!" Alecto exclaimed.

Bellatrix took a look at them and quickly made up her mind. "Disillusion yourselves and disperse!" she called. "Each one goes their way from here! Meeting point is Little Hangleton, at the Dark Lord's house!"

"Agreed, Bellatrix," they all murmured and Disillusioned themselves, then left towards different directions.

-----

"They're Disillusioning themselves!" Tonks exclaimed, upon seeing the big crowd of Death Eaters slowly disappear at the distance. "Now what?"

"Hurry!" yelled the tall man who was leading the group. "We can't lose them!"

"Behind us!" a woman suddenly cried. "They're behind us too!"

Tonks turned around and squinted her eyes to see better. "Those are not Death Eaters... those are the Weasleys! They're coming to help us!"

"How did they know?"

"It doesn't matter!"

"Stop bickering, you two!" the tall man called to the two women, then shouted for everyone to hear him. "The Death Eaters must have split up by now! Use Revealing Charms to help you find them!"

With that in mind, the Aurors dispersed, in search of the Death Eaters.

-----

Snape had trusted Lucius to steer the broomstick; neither of them had ridden a broomstick in years, but at least Lucius had some experience as a Quidditch player back in his Hogwarts days. They flew somewhat awkwardly – neither of them was fat, but two grown men were quite a handful for one old broomstick. Two Aurors were behind them all the way, but by the time they managed to close in enough, the two men had landed and Disapparated to Little Hangleton.

They Apparated outside the abandoned house where Snape was staying. Snape urged Lucius in, locked the door and sound-proofed the room.

"What's going on?" Lucius asked.

"There is something you must hear," Snape told him.

Lucius nodded and sat on an armchair. Snape took a seat opposite him.

"So?"

"I suppose you don't know what your wife and son have been up to since you were imprisoned."

"I don't know much," Lucius said gloomily. "Narcissa only came once to tell me things were difficult, but she didn't want to give me any details. She was afraid the Aurors would eavesdrop on us."

"Well," Snape started, "what happened is that your son joined the Death Eaters."

"Really?" Lucius said, with a proud, fatherly smile.

"Yes, and he was given the mission to kill Dumbledore."

Lucius's smile froze on his lips. "What?" he managed, some moments later.

"Yes. And I must tell you, he did well. He didn't carry out the murder itself, but he created the ideal conditions for it to happen."

"I heard a rumour that you killed Dumbledore, but didn't know whether it was true."

"It is," Snape said emotionlessly. "And it was all thanks to your son."

Lucius nodded, a surprised yet satisfied look on his face. "I'm sure the Dark Lord must have appreciated your efforts very much. Yours and Draco's, I mean."

"Well, the fact of the matter is that Draco was quite unsure about the Dark Lord's opinion. He was afraid that the Dark Lord would consider it a failure of his and make him pay."

Lucius grew worried. "You don't mean..."

"No, no," Snape reassured him. "The Dark Lord never had a change to make him pay. The same night Dumbledore was killed, Narcissa and Draco went into hiding."

"To hide from whom? The Dark Lord?"

"Exactly."

"But... was he really going to punish them? From what you're telling me, it seems that Draco almost accomplished his mission."

"Almost is not good enough for the Dark Lord, Lucius. You should know that by now."

"Well, yes," Lucius admitted, "but still, Dumbledore is dead, so the point remains."

"But your family has yet to be punished for your failure at the Ministry."

"What do you mean?" Lucius shouted. "Doesn't all the time I spent in Azkaban count for anything?"

"I happen to have access to the Dark Lord's plans," Snape said calmly. "He told me himself that he had ugly things in store for your son. He wouldn't be punished for his failure to kill Dumbledore, but he would be first in line for every dangerous mission that came up."

"But... why?" Lucius asked, confused. "Our family has always been loyal to the Dark Lord. He has no reason to punish us for anything!"

"You have been loyal, my friend," Snape said. "But you haven't been _useful_. I had to blow my cover to make up for Draco's failure. What's more, do you know why Draco didn't kill Dumbledore in the end, although he had him cornered and weak?"

Lucius had a feeling he wouldn't like what he was about to hear.

"He got cold feet."

Lucius sighed and his head fell back on the back of the armchair.

"Draco knew he would either have to save his and Narcissa's skin, or face the Dark Lord's wrath," Snape continued. "The Dark Lord does not forgive cowards."

"But... how do you know all that? Have they got in touch with you?"

"In fact," Snape said slowly, "I know where they have been all along."

"You're protecting them?" the blond man asked, his eyes widening.

"Yes."

Lucius sighed again. "I don't like this. You've been around the Dark Lord with this information in your head. If he finds out, none of us is getting away alive."

"There's no need to worry," Snape reassured him. "You forget I'm an excellent Occlumens. I had been fooling Dumbledore for years."

"Indeed." Lucius relaxed a little. "Still, the Dark Lord won't forgive their going into hiding. The moment they come back, they'll suffer the worst tortures he has in store."

"Which is why they are not coming back."

"What, then? Do they plan to stay hidden forever?"

"Only until the war is over."

"I doubt the Dark Lord will forgive them, even when he gains authority."

Snape gave a small smirk. "Lucius, the Dark Lord is never going to win the war."

"Why?" Lucius asked, surprised. "Are things going so bad for him?"

"No, but they will."

"I'm afraid I don't understand you."

"The Dark Lord's cause is doomed to fail, because it's an unjust cause."

"An unjust cause? He wants to clean our world from all parasites!"

"Parasites being Muggles and Muggleborns?"

Lucius grimaced scornfully. "What else would you call them?"

"People," Snape said simply. "People who have the right to live just as we do."

"They're just waste, Severus," Lucius said in the same disdainful tone. "Good for nothing. Salazar Slytherin himself said so."

"I have met Muggleborns who have great merit and magical abilities."

Lucius stared suspiciously at Snape. "Your beliefs sound rather traitorous to me, Severus."

"I guess you could say that they are."

"What are you trying to do?"

"Make you understand why your wife and son preferred to renounce their loyalty to the Dark Lord."

"Renounce their loyalty?"

"Exactly."

"Are you trying to tell me that my wife and son are traitors?" Lucius shouted, rising from his chair.

"They saw what is really worthy in this world, Lucius," Snape said, following suit. "They saw that there are higher values than the purity of blood."

"What else would you say," Lucius spat. "I thought you had renounced your father, but it seems that his dirty blood is still calling you."

Snape drew his wand and stuck it to Lucius's throat. "It's your family, or Voldemort. Make your choice now."

"You cannot threaten me, Severus," Lucius hissed. "You might have been Slytherin enough for the Sorting Hat, but you never really belonged to the same league with us real, pureblood Slytherins."

That was answer enough for Snape.

"Obliviate."

A thin, white thread appeared from the tip of Snape's wand and connected to Lucius's brain, as the blond man's expression became blank and stony. Snape concentrated on the thread – his previous conversation with Lucius was echoing out of it, spoken backwards. When it reached the point Snape wanted, he broke the contact, hid his wand and quickly positioned a still dazed Lucius in the armchair where he had previously been sitting, then returned to his own seat.

"Lucius?" he said cautiously.

Lucius blinked. "Sorry... I was just thinking that I had heard a rumour that you killed Dumbledore, but didn't know whether it was true."

"It is," Snape said emotionlessly. "And it was all thanks to your son."

Lucius nodded, a surprised yet satisfied look on his face. "I'm sure the Dark Lord must have appreciated your efforts very much. Yours and Draco's, I mean."

"Draco never got a chance to see the Dark Lord's appreciation, however," Snape said.

Lucius grew worried. "You don't mean... Something happened to him?"

"This is the problem, Lucius. We don't know. He and Narcissa disappeared that same night."

The blond man looked positively shocked. "Disappeared? But... how? Why?"

Snape put on his most sympathetic expression. "Nobody knows. I'm sorry."

-----

The following day, on their way to the kiosk from where they'd pick up their lunch sandwiches, Kinglsey, Tonks and Arthur found the chance to discuss the previous day's events.

"In all my years as an Auror, I haven't seen such a fiasco," Kingsley stated. "There must have been nearly thirty Death Eaters over there, and we only managed to capture two."

"Three with the one we found drowned at the Azkaban Island," Tonks reminded him.

"Four with the one Molly caught," Arthur added.

"Yeah, what about that? The Ministry is now relying on housewives to capture the Death Eaters that escape from Azkaban." Kingsley turned to look at Arthur. "Robards's words, not mine."

"He's livid," Tonks commented.

"I don't blame him," Arthur said. "How many Aurors did we lose over at the island?"

"Ten," Tonks answered. "Only two survived, both out of pure luck. Yenner was thrown off his broomstick, but he managed to swim back to the shore. And Phiglia would have been dead too, if they didn't need someone to open the cages."

"Moody had said from the beginning that it was a mistake to station only a dozen Aurors at Azkaban."

"We don't have any more people, Arthur," Kingsley said. "With those ten deaths, now there are only eighty of us. Eighty people to guard over the entire Britain. Two shifts of forty, according to the usual Ministry tactic. There's only so much we can do."

"Remus is considering going public with the Order," Tonks said.

"I'm not surprised," Kingsley said. "Although, when you think about it, our operating in secrecy is our biggest advantage."

"And you think Snape hasn't nailed each and every one of us to Voldemort by now?"

Kingsley winced at that thought. "You have a point."

**-End of chapter 8-**


	9. First Clues

Thank you for reading so far. Here's chapter 9.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :)

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy reading, and I'm wishing you all a Happy New Year, full of health, love and all that's best :)

Anna :)

-----

**-Chapter 9: First clues-**

Only three days left until Bill and Fleur's wedding, and both families were in a rush to get the final details done. As usually happens in such cases, time seemed to pass with the speed of light yet not nearly fast enough. The two people most affected by this experience were Molly and Fleur. Molly would spend most of her time worrying over something or other and trying to fix it better. Following the tried and true technique of 'If you want something done right, you've got to do it yourself,' she had undertaken almost everything there was to be done, from sewing the wedding dress and the bridesmaids gowns to preparing the wedding buffet and decorating the house – the wedding would take place at the Burrow. As for Fleur, she was exhilarated and very, very impatient. She would go from her flat to the Burrow and from there to London, to the flat she and Bill would move in once married, trying to help with everything she could as if it would make the wedding day come sooner.

The frenzied rhythm of the wedding preparations had been lost only on Harry, Ron and Hermione. The three of them were deeply engrossed in their preparations for their mission. Brewing potions, researching books and practising spells took most of their time. In a way, they were cut off from the other people of the house – their training was focused on an aspect they could let no one know about, and it was safer just to keep quiet around them.

The only person that had come closer to that circle – albeit without breaking it – was Ginny. Her being the only other teenager in the house and a person all three of them knew equally well, plus the fact that she shared her room with Hermione had allowed her to bridge the distance the three teenagers had created between themselves and the other Weasleys. They let her in the few things they could share, and she was the one to help them when they needed to practise spells in pairs.

Harry, however, was still walking on tiptoes around her. He put on a cool façade when they were all together, but her beautiful face with the bright brown eyes never failed to make him feel squirmy inside. He strived to be nothing more than friendly, and he always managed it, but the moment she was away he would collapse with the pain of missing her.

"Now's not the time," Ron would remind him. "You told her yourself."

Harry knew, he knew it couldn't work under these circumstances. The risk was too big. But that month away from her had shown him how much in love he was with her, even though he'd done his best to suppress it. It was more than a simple attraction and so much different than everything he'd known until now. In the past, there had been moments he had thought he had been in love with Cho Chang; now he knew that couldn't have been farther from the truth.

-----

That day, Harry and Hermione had gone to Diagon Alley, accompanied by Arthur and Charlie. They both needed to buy clothes – their only summer clothes were of Muggle fashion, and they needed dress robes for the wedding. Plus, Hermione wanted to visit Flourish and Blotts to buy books on Godric Gryffindor and Rowena Ravenclaw, in hopes that they'd help them find a clue on what the Horcrux they didn't know about could be.

They were just exiting Flourish and Blotts, when they saw a short, unshaven man in rugged clothing running towards them.

"Hide me, hide me!" he whispered and holed up behind Charlie.

They all threw him confused looks, until Arthur recognised him. "Stuart?"

The man nodded frantically. "Are they gone?"

Hermione looked around discreetly, and spotted two suspicious figures at the Diagon and Knockturn Alley meeting point. "Two big, bald men, dressed in black?"

He nodded again and shrunk even more behind Charlie's broad back, steadying the young man still for good measure. "I don't know how Mundungus did it."

Stuart Marten was a passive member of the Order. After Mundungus's incarceration, he had been assigned to do what was normally Dung's work; mingling with crooks and fishing out of them every piece of information he could. He knew the environment quite well, having worked for years for a big alcoholic beverages company, distributing their products to bars and pubs, but it had turned out that his acting abilities were somewhat lacking.

"They left," Hermione said, seeing the two men disappear into Knockturn Alley.

Stuart let out a sigh of relief and left his hiding place. "Thanks."

"Why were they after you?" Arthur asked.

"They thought I was asking too many questions." He sighed again. "But I did find out something useful!" he said brightly.

"What?"

"Narcissa and Draco Malfoy have disappeared."

Charlie rolled his eyes.

"Stuart," Arthur said gently, so as not to disappoint the man, "we knew that. They disappeared after the attack at Hogwarts."

"No," Stuart said, waggling a finger, "I mean _completely_ disappeared. Not even the Death Eaters know where they are."

"Really?" Harry asked, unable to hide his surprise.

Stuart nodded seriously.

Harry shared a look with Hermione, then looked at Arthur and Charlie and realised they were all wondering the same thing: _If they're not with us, and they're not with the Death Eaters, then where are they?_

"Lucius Malfoy is with the Death Eaters, though," Stuart added and stole a glance around. "You know, I'd better go before they decide to come back for me. I'll see you around."

He left with big, hasty steps, heading to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Interesting," Charlie commented, once the man was gone.

They stood there for a moment, thoughtful, until Arthur snapped out of it. "We'd better go finish our shopping," he proposed.

They all agreed, and headed to the entrance of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

-----

Later that day, Harry, Ron and Hermione were in the bedroom Ron shared with Harry, discussing the path they would follow to the Horcruxes. Their biggest problem was Slytherin's locket; had that R.A.B. really destroyed it after all, or was it still intact? Harry believed that, much as it was going to delay them, they couldn't go on without knowing for sure what had happened to it. Problem was, they had no clue where to look.

They were gathered over a drawing of the locket Harry had drawn, deep in thought, when there was a knock on the door and Ginny's head peeked in.

"Hermione?" she said. "Can I borrow that book on Rowena Ravenclaw you bought? It looks very interesting."

"Sure, go ahead."

"What have you got there? Mind if I take a look?"

Ginny had realised from the very first moment that, even though it felt liberating to them to share what they could about their plans, they wouldn't do it unless someone asked them about them. She had been the only one who had realised that leaving them alone wasn't always the best option. So she made a habit of showing her interest, without being insistent or overly curious – when it was something they didn't want her to see, they told her so, and she didn't mind.

She saw Harry shrug in way of replying, a sign she had learned to interpret as 'take a look if you want to, but you won't understand much'. That was good enough for her. She came near them and looked at the drawing. Her expression grew thoughtful as she observed it.

"I think I've seen this before..."

"It's Slytherin's snake, of course you have," Hermione said. "It's on the Hogwarts crest."

"No... I mean the whole thing." Ginny traced with her index finger the hexagon-shaped outline.

"In the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron provided.

Ginny observed the drawing for a moment. "No," she said eventually, then shrugged. "Well. I'm going to my room. I'll see you later."

"All right."

She left the room, closing the door behind her. The three teenagers remained silent, mulling over Ginny's reaction to the locket drawing, when, less than a minute later, the door barged open and the red-haired girl came in again.

"I remember!" she exclaimed.

"Where did you see it?" Harry asked anxiously.

"At Sirius's house!"

The three teenagers stared at her, perplexity on their faces.

"That heavy locket we found in the drawing room?" she insisted, drawing a hexagon in the air with her finger. "In the glass-fronted cabinet?"

"I do remember a golden locket," Hermione said.

"That was it, I'm sure it was!"

"Thanks, Ginny," Harry said, his mind racing with the possibilities. "That was great help."

Ginny watched the three teenagers for a moment; impatience was evident on their faces. "So, as I said, I'm going to my room." With that, she hastily left again.

Once left alone, the three teenagers gathered closer.

"So what do we do?" Hermione asked. "We threw it away, didn't we?"

"Yeah..." Ron said. "But if we're lucky, maybe Kreacher has stolen and kept it."

"Or Mundungus!" Harry suddenly exclaimed. "Maybe Mundungus got it!"

"If he got it, then he's probably sold it already."

Harry turned the sheet of parchment over, picked up his quill and started scribbling notes. "Let's make a plan. First, we question Kreacher, see if he's got it. If he doesn't, we question Mundungus."

"He won't be out of Azkaban before December," Ron reminded him.

"We can visit him there."

"And what if he doesn't have any information either?" Hermione asked.

They all pondered that question for a moment.

"All magical garbage goes to the Hole of the Unwanted," Ron eventually said. "I'm not sure whether it's possible to extract anything from it, but we could go and ask the guards. Although if it's there, it will be buried under tons of garbage by now."

Harry sighed as he jotted down 'Hole of Unwanted'. "We have a _lot _of things to do."

"We can start now," Ron suggested. "Call Kreacher."

Harry considered this for a second. "Will it work? He's at Hogwarts."

Ron shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

"OK, then... Kreacher?"

With a loud crack, the house-elf appeared in the room. "Did Master call Kreacher?" he said, bowing. "Kreacher was much better at Hogwarts, without being bossed around by his unworthy master..."

Harry ignored Kreacher's mutterings, but Hermione tried to be polite to him. "How are you, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher is fine," he said and bowed before her as well. "How dare the Mudblood address Kreacher, such audacity, such disrespect..."

Ron rolled his eyes. "The sooner you ask him, the sooner he'll be back to Hogwarts," he whispered to Harry.

"Right. So, Kreacher, do you have a gold, hexagon-shaped locket with a snake carved on it?"

"Kreacher has no possessions at all," the house-elf said.

Harry found this a little hard to believe, considering how many things Kreacher had nicked, and assumed it was a matter of phrasing. So, he tried a different approach. "Did you take that locket? Did you hide it somewhere?"

"No," Kreacher said, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Harry. "Kreacher never took young master's locket."

Harry stared at Kreacher, bewildered at the mention of _young master's locket_. A moment of silence passed, until Hermione broke the silence.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in sudden comprehension. "R.A.B.!"

Harry turned to look at her, still confused. Upon seeing her excited expression, it dawned on him as well.

"Kreacher, what was Regulus's middle name?"

"It was Arcturus, Master."

The three teenagers exchanged looks of astonishment. Regulus Black... he had joined the Death Eaters, changed his mind afterwards, ended up killed by the Dark forces. Made sense. And to think that it was right before their eyes...

"What do you know about that locket?" Harry asked Kreacher.

"Young master brought it home a few days before he was killed."

"And where is it now?"

"Master threw it away two summers ago."

Harry grimaced at this lack of useful information. "OK. Thank you Kreacher. Now, return to the Hogwarts kitchens, and don't leave the school unless I tell you to."

"As Master wishes," Kreacher said. He bowed once again and, with a loud crack, he was gone.

"One down," Ron said and, grabbing the quill, crossed out 'Kreacher' from the list.

"Next is Mundungus," Harry said. "That won't be easy."

"At least there are no Dementors now in Azkaban," Hermione pointed out. "And maybe we could get Tonks to help us get there and talk to him."

Ron nodded. "But we'd better wait until after the wedding for that."

The other two agreed. There was no point in taking a trip to Azkaban now; it would undoubtedly be a cause of distress for the rest of the Burrow residents, and they had enough to worry about with the wedding coming up. Besides, the three of them had already decided to wait until Harry would turn seventeen to begin their quest for the Horcruxes.

Until then... they'd prepare themselves. Physically, mentally, and magically.

**-End of chapter 9-**


	10. Wedding Day

Thank you for reading so far. Here's chapter 10.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers :)

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy reading. :)

Anna.

**----- **

**-Chapter 10: Wedding day-**

The wedding day had finally arrived. The people of the Burrow had been up and about since very early; the wedding would start at noon, and there were many little details to be dealt with until then.

It was almost eleven-thirty. Harry, Ron, Fred and George were in the garden, finishing up the decorations. Bill was in his room with Remus and Charlie, getting dressed. Arthur was in the sitting room with Mr and Mrs Delacour, keeping them company while Fleur and Gabrielle were upstairs, getting ready with the help of Hermione, Ginny and Molly – who had joined them after putting the finishing touches on the wedding buffet and casting a Conservation Charm to keep everything at top condition until lunchtime.

Eventually, the groom came downstairs, accompanied by his brother and his best man. As usual, he greeted Mr Delacour and kissed Mme Delacour's hand. She forced a smile; she was still against this wedding.

Arthur looked at his eldest son with pride, but also an indistinct bit of sorrow. After Greyback's attack, the young man's face had become almost unrecognisable. It was, of course, a small price to pay, when others had been so much more unfortunate. His gaze travelled to Remus – what if he had no scars? The torture Greyback had put him through was worse than anything Bill would ever suffer.

After Greyback's attack, Bill had asked for Remus to take Charlie's place as his best man. They had got quite close since Bill had returned to Britain, even though they weren't exactly best friends. But since he had been bitten, Bill had sought his support more than anybody else's. This had been to the benefit of both of them; in his attempt to cheer up and encourage Bill, Remus had found some confidence in himself as well. As for Bill, he was happy to know someone with similar experiences was there to guide him.

A while later, the decoration team entered the sitting room.

"Everything's ready," Fred announced. "Would you like to take a look, Mr Groom?"

"No, it's OK, I trust you. Maybe Mum would like to take a look, though."

"I'll go tell her to come down, then."

"No!" Bill grasped Fred by the arm. "Are you out of your mind? Fleur will throw a fit if you go into that room. She doesn't want any men to see her in her wedding dress before the ceremony. She thinks it's bad luck."

Mme Delacour muttered something inaudible under her breath.

"Then I'll just knock and yell," the boy said with a grin and started hopping up the stairs. George, Ron and Harry followed him, heading to their rooms to get dressed.

-----

"All right, dear... So, what do you think?"

Molly stepped aside, allowing Fleur, who was sitting in a stool in front of the vanity, to look at her reflection in the mirror. The girl's beautiful characteristics were enhanced by Molly's make-up work, which was subtle yet enough to bring out her Veela charms.

"C'est magnifique," Fleur whispered. "Thank you."

"Hey, hey," Molly said with a smile. "Don't cry now." She pulled out her wand and dried Fleur's teary eyes with a spell.

"Thank you," the girl repeated. "For everytheeng. I know I must 'ave been a little difficult to deal with. But you are so nice. You did so much about this wedding. The preparations, the dresses, so much work..." She swallowed down a sob, then continued. "And you even took my mozer's place today... helping me prepare myself..."

"If you'd rather have her, she must be downstairs -"

"No!" Fleur seized Molly's robe. "I do not want 'er 'ere. She will bring us bad luck. She does not want this wedding." The girl let out a sigh. "I would razer she had not come at all."

"But she is your mother."

"And yet, she has not been 'alf as supportive as you have." Fleur's gaze absent-mindedly turned to the mirror. "We always argued, like mozer and daughter, but theengs only got worse over ze years. First, it was my decision to participate in the Triwizard Tournament, then when I wanted to move 'ere and work in the bank... 'You were not born to be a bank employee!', she had said."

Molly had sat on the bed and was listening to her carefully, along with Hermione, Ginny and Gabrielle. She had heard Fleur ranting about these things before, but there was a different quality in her words now. It was like a confession.

"Do you know what she thought of Bill?" Fleur continued. "She thought 'e was too poor for me. And she did not like him not being French, eizer. But she was nice to him, because 'e was good-looking and educated and a gentleman. She could overlook 'is money status because of that. But when 'e was not good-looking anymore, he suddenly was not good enough for me."

"Try to understand her, dear," Molly said softly. "She's just worried about you, afraid you might regret it."

"She is just a stuck-up, self-important..." She paused mid-sentence and turned around. "What was the other name you called 'er, Ginny?"

Ginny couldn't hold back a grin. "You heard that?"

"I heard everytheeng."

"'Spiteful hag'."

"Yes!" Fleur said, a triumphant finger slashing in the air as she turned back to the mirror and opened the lid of her jewelry case. "A stuck-up, self-important and spiteful 'ag."

"All right, don't be bitter now," Molly said. "You'll regret it."

"I will not."

"Just don't think about her right now, all right? Here, let me brush your hair."

She walked over to Fleur and undid the hasty bun she had made to keep her hair off the girl's face while she would apply the make up, then started to brush the long, silvery-white hair. The other three girls continued with their own routines; Hermione was brushing Gabrielle's hair, while Ginny dragged a stool near the vanity and started applying some lip-gloss on her lips.

"MU-UM!" Fred's voice then came from the hallway, accompanied by a loud knock on the door. "We're done with the garden!"

"I'll go take a look and be right back," Molly said. This bedroom faced the other side of the lot, so she couldn't see from the bedroom window. She left the girls continue on their own for a minute, while she left to inspect the garden with Fred.

A moment of silence passed. It was Ginny who broke it.

"Fleur?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry I didn't like you at first. You really are a good girl after all."

Fleur smiled. "Thank you. You too."

-----

Not much later, the first guests started arriving. By noon, almost everyone was there, seated in the rows of chairs the boys had earlier placed on either side of the wide, cobbled path leading to the front door, facing the large, flower-decorated arc. Bill, dressed in his grey coat, took his place in front of the arc, holding a bouquet of flowers, radiant with joy. Remus was standing beside him, and Arthur, who would perform the ceremony, on the other side of the arc, facing the guests. It was a tradition that the wedding ceremony should be performed by someone who was close to the bride and the groom and was happily married himself.

Fleur, Gabrielle and Mr Delacour waited in the living room, while Ginny watched from the window, keeping an eye on the time. When she decided the timing was right for Fleur to be fashionably late, she gestured for them to come over and opened the door.

She and Gabrielle stood by either side of the door, and Fleur walked outside, holding arms with her father. She looked breathtaking in the wedding dress Molly had made for her. It was long and white, embroidered all over with a flowery pattern. Aunt Muriel's tiara, now elegantly placed on Fleur's head, glinted under the summer sun, making her look like a princess.

With slow steps, she made her way to the arc, her father beside her, Ginny and Gabrielle following from behind as they held the long train of the wedding dress. Once she was near Bill, Mr Delacour let go of her arm. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, shook Bill's hand and walked back to sit in the chair kept for him beside Mme Delacour.

Bill kissed Fleur's hand and gave her the bouquet, as the two girls placed the train by Fleur's side and took their positions to either side of the arc. Remus then walked to take his position, one step behind the couple. Everything was ready for Arthur to start his speech.

"Dear friends, we are gathered here today to celebrate one of life's greatest moments, to give recognition to the worth and beauty of love, and to add our best wishes to the words which shall unite William and Fleur in marriage."

Remus stepped forward, took Bill's left hand and Fleur's right hand and joined them, then stepped back again.

"Should there be anyone who has cause why this couple should not be united in marriage, they must speak now or forever hold their peace," Arthur continued. He saw Fleur give a tiny flinch upon hearing these words, but it seemed that nobody else noticed.

After a pause, he spoke again. "It has been said, and proven, that there is no magic stronger than love, no power capable to destroy the bond between two people who love each other. For us, who live in a world of war, the sight of these two young people who, driven by their love for each other, aspire to spend their lives together, can only be a source of reassurance that hope still exists, that the fight is not lost yet. And we wish that this power will keep them united for the rest of their lives."

Bill and Fleur stepped under the arc. Arthur and Remus simultaneously raised their wands and targeted the top of the arc. Two jets of white light left their wands and hit it, and a rain of petals started falling on Bill's and Fleur's heads.

"William, do you take Fleur to be your wife?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to love her, comfort her and honour her, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Fleur, do you take William to be your husband?"

"I do."

"Do you promise to love him, comfort him and honour him, in sickness and in health, in sorrow and in joy, so long as you both shall live?"

"I do."

"Please raise your hands."

Bill and Fleur turned to face each other. They brought their joined hands up to neck level and let go of each other's fingers. Remus dug inside his pockets and retrieved one simple, golden ring from each one, then stepped near the couple.

"May these rings keep your hands united when life forces them apart," he said and simultaneously slipped one ring to Fleur's right hand and one to Bill's left hand. He then stepped back again.

Bill and Fleur brought their hands together. The moment the rings met, they began glowing in a white light, which slowly grew to engulf their entire bodies. It shone for a few seconds and vanished; along with it, the petals stopped falling from the arc.

"As of this moment, you are named husband and wife," Arthur finished the ceremony. "You may kiss."

Fleur didn't need to be asked twice to oblige. With a grin of ecstatic happiness, she wrapped her arms around Bill's neck and kissed him. The young man found himself surprised at her impatience, but that didn't mean he minded.

Everyone started to applaud the newly-wedded couple. Fred and George let out loud whistles, which made Hermione, who was sitting in front of them, frown and cover her ears.

"The bouquet!" someone yelled.

That was the cue for Fleur to let go of Bill and turn to the crowd. The single ladies were already gathering up in the middle of the path; even Hermione and Ginny were pushed forward, by the laughing Weasley twins.

Fleur looked at the women thoughtfully, biting her lip, and tilted her head as if looking for something. Then, suddenly, her lips curled to a mischievous smile. Instead of turning her back to the crowd, she weighed the bouquet in her hand, then aimed and threw it. It landed square on Tonks's hands.

Tonks looked at Fleur with a big smile, which Fleur returned. The blond girl then took a glance at Remus; the whistling and applauding that had followed had made a slight blush creep up to his cheeks. A group of blond girls, all cousins of Fleur's, retreated towards the back of the garden, highly annoyed.

"You did it on purpose, it won't work," Bill whispered teasingly in his wife's ear.

"Oh, it will," Fleur reassured him. "I will personally look to it."

-----

Afterwards, the Weasleys, with Molly in charge, went to set the tables for the wedding feast. The rest of the guests formed a line before the newlyweds, to congratulate them and offer their best wishes.

"Congratulations!"

"All the best!"

"Tous mes vœux de bonheur !"

When the line reached its end, the guests went to serve themselves from Molly's delicious food, while Fleur took a moment to lean on Bill's shoulder and watch the summer picture. The sun, which had graced the wedding with its presence, made everything look bright and peaceful.

Then, Fleur noticed her parents standing near the front door. Mr Delacour had his arm wrapped around Mme Delacour's shoulders. The woman was staring at Fleur and Bill with a very stern expression.

Bill leaned closer to his wife and planted a kiss on her cheek. "It's bad luck to hold a grudge," he whispered in her ear.

Fleur sighed and pondered that for a minute. Then, she took her husband's hand, silently pleading with him to stand by her side, and went to make peace with her mother.

-----

After the dinner, Arthur's old record player was brought outside to provide with some music. Charlie had undertaken the role of the disk-jockey, choosing between his parents' old records, several records of mainstream music provided by his friends and Fleur's collection of French ballads. He was currently playing songs of the past decade, and a number of both young and older people were grooving to the disco-like rhythms.

Harry, Hermione and the youngest of the Weasleys had retreated, after a lengthy dose of dancing. They were currently gathered around the remains of the wedding cake and the other desserts, and tasting a little bit of everything while chatting pleasantly about light-hearted subjects like music and food.

Ginny was very happy to see Harry relaxed for a change. Since he had come to the Burrow, he spent his time either focused on studying, practising with Ron and Hermione – and her, sometimes – or worrying about what was to come. Not that she blamed him; the whole wizarding world was at stake, and it seemed that it was up to him to make things right. Anybody would have been overwhelmed.

However, he needed an outlet. And, obviously, the wedding had come at the right time to take his mind off Voldemort and the war for a bit. In fact, she mused, it had come at the right time to take _everyone's _mind off the war for a bit. It was nice to see everyone enjoying themselves: Bill catching up on the news of his old classmates; Fleur giggling with her cousins; a number of Order members discussing loudly while having a drink; some of the younger children playing tag in the back of the garden; a few couples dancing, now that Charlie had put on a mellow song.

"D'you wanna dance, Hermione?" Ron asked casually at some point.

"Sure."

_Speaking of couples, _she thought and grinned, then watched as Ron took Hermione's hand and they joined the other couples. Funnily enough, Fred and George didn't start to make 'cute' noises at the sight of their youngest brother asking a girl to dance. Then again, that was probably because that would stop him from dancing with Hermione, thus depriving themselves of the pleasure of poking fun at him about it for the next two weeks.

The four teenagers continued with their conversation. A while later, Tonks came near them.

"Is there any fruit cake left? Or you ate it all?"

"Help yourself," George said, showing her the plate where a quarter of a fruit cake was left.

Tonks walked over to the table and with awkward, graceless movements, cut a large piece of cake for herself, filling the table with crumbs. "D'you mind if I sit with you?"

"Sure not," Fred said.

She sat down on Hermione's chair and started eating. "I love your mother's fruit cake."

"Who doesn't?" George said with a grin.

"Tonks..." Harry began. "I wanted to ask you something."

She looked up at him, munching a big mouthful of cake. "Mmhmm?"

"How does one go to visit Azkaban?"

She shook her head tiredly and swallowed. "The safety measures have been intensified since the latest Death Eater attack. You need an authorisation signed by the Head of the Auror office, stating clearly the reasons why you want to visit Azkaban. And, of course, there's the whole problem of getting there."

"Is it hard?"

"It's a long way, and you can only go by broom. The usual route is with Apparition to Sunderland, and then flying to the island. Why do you want to visit Azkaban?"

"I want to see Mundungus."

"Ah..." Tonks nodded, remembering that time in Hogsmeade, when Harry caught Mundungus with the stolen objects from Sirius's house.

"How do I get an authorisation?"

"You've got to send a request letter, introducing yourself and explaining what you need it for. Or, you could go ask for it in person, but you should be prepared that you might have to wait for hours until you're admitted in the Head's office. In any case, though, I'd wait until turning seventeen if I were you."

"Do you think the Head will grant me an authorisation if I ask for one?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "He's strict about it, and I don't blame him. But I think he'd grant you one. I mean, you're not just anybody."

Harry nodded. After Scrimgeour's insistent attempts to get him by the Ministry's side, Harry had no trouble seeing anyone in the Ministry rushing to grant his requests. His eyes searched Ron and Hermione – they needed to hear that information. He quickly spotted them, dancing to the slow rhythm, holding close to each other, their faces inches apart.

On second thought... it could wait.

-----

Hestia's attention had been slowly slipping from the conversation she was having with Remus, Kingsley, Sturgis, Stuart and Prudence. The presence of Firewhisky in the table had urged them into a conversation on the finest brands of Firewhisky, a topic she didn't have the slightest interest in.

She glanced around the yard and spotted a little girl with long, silvery-blond hair sitting on the grass and fiddling with some weeds. She recognised her; it was Fleur's sister, the second bridesmaid.

The girl looked lonely, and Hestia felt for her. She loved children. So she left the others to talk and walked over to the girl.

"Hi," she greeted, kneeling near the girl.

The girl looked up at her, looking reserved. "'i."

"You are Fleur's sister, right?"

The girl nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Gabrielle."

"Why don't you go play with the other children, Gabrielle?" Hestia asked, pointing at the group of children in the back of the garden.

Gabrielle shook her head.

"What do you want to do?"

"I want to seet wiz zem," she said and pointed somewhere behind Hestia.

Hestia turned around. Gabrielle was showing her a small group of teenagers – some of the Weasley kids and Harry Potter. She figured the girl probably wanted Ginny's company.

"Let me take you to them, OK?" she said and held out her hand.

Gabrielle timidly took it and let Hestia help her approach the kids.

-----

"...all month avoiding us." Harry was now telling the twins and Ginny about Dudley and the rest of his stay with Ron and Hermione in Privet Drive. "Not that we cared about his company, of course..."

"Harry..." he heard a voice behind him.

He turned around and recognised Hestia Jones, one of the Order members who had come to pick him up two summers ago from Privet Drive. She was holding Gabrielle Delacour by the hand.

"Gabrielle wants to say hi," Hestia explained with a smile.

"Hi, Gabrielle!" Harry said pleasantly. "How have you been?"

Gabrielle shifted in position and gave him a timid smile, her fair cheeks reddening a little. "Fine," she said, her voice barely audible.

Harry was strongly reminded of Ginny, and the way she used to be tongue-tied around him a few years ago. It was endearing.

"Come here," he said. The girl left Hestia's hand and slowly walked up to him, and he patted her shoulder. "Look how big you've become!" he said. "And how beautiful, too!"

She blushed even more. "Zank you."

Not knowing what else to do or tell her – he hardly had any experience with little children – he looked over at the twins and Ginny. Fred quickly jumped to his rescue. "Some cake, Gabrielle?"

The girl nodded, and he swiftly served her some of the wedding cake. "Eat this, and then we will play something, OK?"

She nodded again, grabbed the plate and sat on the spare chair beside Harry.

-----

Tonks was returning from the toilet, when she heard a cheerful voice call her.

"Tonks! Come over 'ere!"

Fleur was waving at her from where she was sitting with a bunch of other young girls. Tonks shrugged and went to join them, watching her every step and waving her arms for balance. Walking on a cobbled path was never easy for her, especially when wearing heels. Damn these weddings and the formalwear they required.

She arrived near Fleur, who had just conjured a chair for her.

"Sit 'ere," Fleur invited her. "Girls," she then addressed the others, "I want you to meet my best friend 'ere in Britain. This is Tonks. Tonks, these are Danièle, Françoise, Jacinthe, Pauline and Claire. They are my cousins from my mozer's side."

Even without that last comment, Tonks would have easily figured it out. They all had the same, silvery-blond hair, sparkling eyes in light colours, and a rare beauty. It was a little unnerving.

"Interesting 'air," Françoise said, with an undertone of sarcasm.

Tonks automatically reached up to brush her long, sky-blue hair. "Well, yeah... normally is black, but I've found black doesn't suit me that much."

"Eet looks good with your dress," Pauline said earnestly; the colour really complimented Tonks's turquoise dress. "'Ow did you do eet? Potion, or spell?"

"Actually," Fleur interjected, "she is a Metamorphmagus."

The girls met the news with varying degrees of interest. Pauline in particular seemed fascinated; she started showering Tonks with questions. Tonks was used to that kind of treatment, and generally had no problem with it, but she noticed the slightly snide looks Danièle, Françoise and Jacinthe were giving her and decided to limit herself to very short answers.

"You are ze one Fleur threw ze bouquet to," Danièle noted at some point.

Tonks flinched, realising that was probably the reason of the coldness with which the girl had greeted her. "Yes."

"'Aving problem finding a man?"

"Danièle ! Ne sois pas aussi indiscrète !" Claire scolded her cousin.

_(Danièle! Don't be so indiscreet!)_

"Well – um..." Tonks awkwardly looked from one girl to the other. Even without speaking French, she could tell that Claire had been trying to hold Danièle back and make her feel comfortable, but Tonks couldn't help but wonder whether it would be a better idea to just leave the cousins on their own and go find some other company. She didn't like to feel she was imposing.

Fleur, though, quickly took charge, grasping her friend's hand so that she wouldn't think of fleeing. "Not at all," she answered the question Danièle had posed. "She has got 'erself a very nice man. There 'e is." She discreetly pointed at Remus, who was still sitting with the other Order members.

"Oh, 'e was ze best man!" Pauline noted.

"Yes!" Fleur confirmed.

"Vewy charming," Claire commented.

Tonks blinked, wondering where was the age comment, and Fleur caught the question in her friend's expression. "All the women in our family have married men several years older zan them," she explained in a whisper.

Tonks rolled her eyes in jest. "Couldn't you have told Remus that a few months ago?"

Fleur burst into giggles.

-----

The party went on for hours. It was around five-thirty when all the guests were gone.

"So I guess it's time for us to go home too, right?" Bill said, putting his arm around Fleur's waist.

"But, Bill, look at this mess! We should stay and 'elp your mozer clean up..."

"No, no, no!" Molly said quickly. "It's time for you to go home. And I mean, _your _home."

The couple grinned.

"Have you left anything in the room, Bill?" Charlie asked.

"Just a few clothes. Leave them there. Oh, and kids?" he addressed Harry, Ron and Hermione. "I've left most of my books in the bookcase in my room. Feel free to take anything you need."

"Thanks," Harry said.

"So, we're leaving. Thanks for everything, mum. You outdid yourself here."

"It was my pleasure, dear," she said and hugged him, then moved over to Fleur. "Take good care of my son, you hear?"

"Of course, Madame Molly," she said.

The two women hugged. Then, Bill and Fleur waved goodbye to everyone and Disapparated to London.

"Time to clean up," Molly then said. "Harry, Ron, Vanish the chairs. Arthur and Charlie will have to take the arc away. As for you, girls... I'll need some help with the dishes."

With that, everyone got to work.

**-End of chapter 10-**


	11. New Routines

Thank you for reading so far. Here's chapter 11.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers. Also, to Cath for double-checking my Welsh. :D

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna. :)

-----

**-Chapter 11: New routines-**

A young woman with long and curly brown hair entered the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She was wearing a summer robe in azure and holding a package wrapped in blue paper and a yellow ribbon.

There was a small crowd inside the room. She walked in slowly, her eyes scanning the room carefully. Verity, the clerk, quickly spotted her and approached her. "Can I help you, Miss?"

"I'm looking for Fred or George Weasley," the woman replied.

"I'll let them know," she said and quickly made her way to the other room. "Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley, a woman wants to see one of you." The woman didn't hear the reply, but Verity quickly returned to her. "One of them will be with you in a second," she told her and went to assist a customer.

Soon after, George entered the room. At the face of the young woman he recognised Penelope Clearwater. He hadn't seen her in years, but, last he knew, she was still Percy's girlfriend.

"Hi, Penelope," he said pleasantly.

"Hi... Fred," she said with uncertainty.

"It's George."

She winced. "Sorry." After a short pause, she continued. "Can we talk?"

"If you don't mind the crowd," he said, gesturing to the customers.

She glanced over at them. "Oh, well... it's OK." She seemed to gather her courage for a moment, then held out to George the package she had in her hands. "This is for Bill and Fleur, on Percy's behalf."

George studied her face suspiciously. "Did he ask you to do that?"

"Well, Percy is very busy at the moment, but I..." she trailed off. When she saw that this answer didn't satisfy George, she admitted defeat. "No."

"Then what makes you think we'll accept it?"

"Look, Percy is stubborn, and he doesn't like to admit it when he's wrong, but he loves all of you. I'm sure he wanted to be at the wedding."

"But he wasn't."

Penelope sighed. "If you'd take the first step -"

"What first step?" George cut her. "It was _him_ who left us. We can't go chasing after him. The only way is for him to apologise. And, personally, I wouldn't mind if he chose to do that through you, but it has to be his own choice."

Penelope's features filled with sadness. "George, I don't like to see broken families. My parents are divorced, and I know how it feels when you're apart from someone you love."

"Sorry, Penelope, but that does not excuse Percy's behaviour. You want a first step? Bill invited him to his wedding. What else could we do since he himself decided not to show up?"

At that moment, Fred appeared at the doorframe. "George... Oh, hi, Penelope! What brings you here?"

"Fred!" she exclaimed, hoping she'd find an ally in him. "I was just telling your brother it would be nice if you and Percy made up."

"Sure it would. Whenever he chooses to come back, he's welcome."

She flinched, realising that he probably shared George's views. "But what if he's too proud to apologise to you?"

"Apologising isn't something humiliating."

She sighed. "Boys, this is not the time to hold grudges. We all must be united, we're in the middle of a war!"

"_We _are not holding a grudge, Penelope, _he_ is!" George shouted.

"Don't shout!" she pleaded timidly, gesturing to the customers.

"Let them hear me, I don't care."

"Fred?" she prodded the other twin.

"George's right," he simply said.

Penelope looked desperate. "For Merlin's... Don't be so harsh, boys! How would you feel if... if tomorrow there was a Death Eater raid at the Ministry, and Percy got killed?"

George's face fell. "I wouldn't like it."

"You'd be sad."

"Of course."

"You'd be wishing you hadn't been so harsh with him."

"We haven't been harsh."

"Look, Penelope," Fred said, stepping closer. "I'm sure you know everything that's happened."

She nodded. "Percy told me. If you believe he told me the truth -"

"Percy doesn't lie," Fred interrupted her. "He might be a prat, but he doesn't lie. So, suppose George and I decide to take your advice and go talk to Percy."

She nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"What would we tell him? That we're sorry? For what? For having such a stupid brother?"

"No... but you could..." She trailed off, unsure of what to say.

"See? It's not up to us."

"Well, I... Do whatever you wish." She placed the package on the counter. "But I'm not taking this back. Bye," she added, before they had a chance to protest, and left the shop with hasty steps.

The twins watched her, dumbfounded for a moment.

"And what's that?" Fred asked eventually.

"She brought a present for Bill and Fleur on Percy's behalf. Only Percy has no idea."

Fred nodded.

"Do you think Bill will accept it?"

"No way."

The two twins exchanged thoughtful looks, then simultaneously called out "Verity!"

The girl was by their side on the spot. "Yes, Mr Weasley, Mr Weasley?"

"That one's for you," Fred said and pointed at Penelope's present.

Surprised, Verity turned to take a look, and a smile broke upon her face upon seeing it. "Oh! Thank you."

-----

A brown, spotted owl flew through McGonagall's window and close to the black-haired woman, who was sitting in her room in the Hogwarts castle, knitting. When she saw the bird, she left the knitting needles and reached for the letter that was tied to its leg. The letter bore the Hogwarts seal in red wax, signalling that it was coming on behalf of the Governing Board of Hogwarts.

_At last! _she thought and quickly opened the envelope. Her eyes scanned the parchment for the only thing she wanted to know – and there it was:

_...The vote that took place afterwards gave five for and seven against. With this in mind, the Governing Board has decided that the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will remain open for the next school year. ..._

She closed her eyes and breathed a long sigh of relief, thanking the fates for this outcome. The Governing Board had been having meeting upon meeting for the past month regarding the future operation of the school, but all of their votes were ending up with six for and six against closing down the school. The president, however, who was for closing down the school, had insistently refused to break the tie by using his presidential right to vote twice, claiming that they shouldn't make such an important decision if there wasn't a majority to agree with it. So this situation had dragged on, until McGonagall had decided to send them a memo regarding the operation of the school under the current circumstances, diplomatically but confidently assuring the Board that the school could and should continue to operate. Her position as the Headmistress – if only temporary – granted her no say in the matter, since the Headmaster was appointed to direct the school only under the condition that the Board agreed it should stay open, but the Board accepted her memo as an added view on the matter. And, apparently, someone had been convinced that the school should continue to operate, thus breaking the tie and allowing for a decision to be reached.

Happy with that knowledge, she read the letter carefully. Apparently, the Board had also made their decisions regarding the future Headmaster; the letter was informing her that she had been officially appointed the new Headmistress of Hogwarts, and asking her to undertake the pertaining duties immediately.

After she finished reading the letter, she sat down and wrote a letter of acknowledgement to the Governing Board. Then, she headed to the Headmaster's office; Dumbledore had left some letters for the Headmaster that would succeed him, and they now had a recipient.

-----

A messy pile of parchments was resting upon the coffee table in the living room at sixty-seven, Paddlestone Lane. Remus Lupin was tiredly reading the reports that the Order members from all around the country had sent him. To his dismay, things were very stagnant.

The Death Eaters surely had a base somewhere, but nobody had been able to locate it. What was more, there had hardly been any sight of Death Eaters since the Azkaban breakout. The Ministry had greeted the news with optimism, hoping that the newest safety measures that had been taken had somehow terrified them, but Remus had no doubt: they were just biding their time until they would be ready for a massive attack. An attack that, if things continued this way, would catch everyone completely off-guard.

He sighed and threw away the letter he had been reading, then leaned back on the sofa closing his eyes. He stayed in this position for a while, pondering the information – or rather, lack thereof – the letters contained, until he heard a voice coming from behind the fireplace wall.

"Remus? It's Bill. Can I come in?"

Remus opened his eyes. "Yeah, just one minute." He got up, picked up his wand and walked to the fireplace.

A jar half-full of Floo Powder was resting on the brown stone border. Remus opened the jar and dipped the tip of his wand in it. Afterwards, he knelt and tapped the wall inside the fireplace, saying "Semiapertus".

He stepped back as bright green flames erupted in the fireplace. Moments later, Bill Weasley was stepping in.

"Sorry about that," Remus said. "I shut the fireplace completely because I was doing Order work, and some of the people I keep it half-open for aren't in the Order."

"It's OK," Bill said. His eyes fell on the paperwork on the coffee table. "Do you need any help?"

"No, no, I'm done, I just have to put them away. Though I could just burn them..." he muttered.

"Nothing useful?"

"Nothing at all."

Bill nodded sympathetically and patted Remus's shoulder. "At least I've got good news for you."

"Really? Now that you mention, I didn't see a letter from you."

"Because there wasn't one," the younger man said and plopped down on the couch. "I'm ready to leave to Wales."

Remus looked at him, narrowing his eyes. "You still insist on that?"

"It's been decided already," Bill reminded him.

"At least you could wait a little longer. You only got married yesterday."

"Full moon's tomorrow. I want to spend it with them."

"You don't know how they'll act towards you under a full moon."

"I want to find out."

"And what about Fleur?"

"She understands."

Remus exhaled heavily and took a seat beside Bill.

"Do you have a plan or something?" the younger man asked. "I've had some thoughts, but I don't know what the werewolf community is like and whether they could work."

"I've been thinking about your situation, to tell you the truth. We've got a couple of alternatives to choose from." At Bill's nod, he continued. "The hierarchy in the werewolf community works in a strange way. Most of the werewolves only care for survival, and they don't pay any attention to strategy and politics. Whoever wants to lead, leads; the others neither support nor fight him. Well, usually," he rectified. "Greyback has been organising a propaganda, and it has earned him some support. The neutral party, though, works as I told you."

Bill nodded again. "I think I'd better join the neutral party, right?"

"Yes, definitely. The only question is whether to go for leadership or not."

"You think I could _lead _them?" Bill asked in incredulity.

Remus nodded reassuringly. "If you handle your situation right, you can. Trust me."

"Well, if you say so," Bill said with a shrug.

"The only thing is, maybe it could be better if you began socialising with the public first, because you can gather important information from them, and even their support. Their detachment from the leaders would make it difficult to work your way down to them. On the other hand, if anyone can pull it off, it's you."

"I'll do whatever you tell me," Bill said earnestly.

Remus took a deep breath and Summoned a map of Wales. "Well, let's see..."

-----

That same evening, just after the sunset, Bill Apparated in the middle of the road leading outside Anwenglyn. The road went on for about fifty yards before starting to crawl up a hill covered with trees.

_Apparate outside Anwenglyn and get to the top of Bryn Cethinpren on foot, _Remus had advised. _Better not to use magic when you're close to them._

The road went up the hill smoothly, making for a pleasant walk. Once on top of the hill, Bill saw the dirt path that led east, to the caves.

_Don't stray away from the road or the path. Someone might see you, and you have to show them you can follow the road already taken._

_Too much symbolism, _Bill had thought when Remus had told him that. He followed the path nonetheless, and soon found himself approaching the caves.

_The neutral party lives in the caves you'll be seeing to your right. Go to the third cave from the end._

Without straying from the path – Remus had repeated this piece of advice one too many times – Bill found the cave where, according to Remus's instructions, lived the leaders.

_Walk in casually. Show them you respect them, but you're not afraid of them._

That wasn't difficult for Bill. He took a moment to mentally prepare himself, then coolly made his way in. At the back of the cave, he could see three people gathered around a fire, facing the cave's entrance.

"Hello," he greeted, his expression serious and respectful.

The leaders, who had cut short their conversation at the moment Bill appeared by the cave's entrance, looked up at him. They were two men and one woman; the woman was sitting in the middle. "And you are?" she asked.

_There are no surnames in the neutral party of the werewolf community. Introduce yourself with first name only._

"I'm Bill, half-werewolf."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "As in?"

_Their names are Rod, Cassidy and Pedr, but they won't introduce themselves unless they deem you worthy of getting to know them. Rod is the most influential of all, but Cassidy is the one who does the talking. Be prepared to be interrogated, and don't lose your cool._

"I was bitten by a werewolf, but it wasn't on a full moon night."

Cassidy turned around to share a thoughtful look with the bulkier of the two men. He was blond and hairy, with a long beard. _Rod._

She then turned around, her eyes still narrowed. _They don't trust strangers easily. _"Share."

Bill felt a little uncomfortable standing in front of them, almost looking down on them, but Remus had specifically told him not to sit down unless he was asked to. He fixed his eyes on Cassidy, to show her that he was not afraid of eye contact, and spoke. "Fenrir Greyback bit me. I was at Hogwarts the night when Dumbledore died." _Short, and to the point. If they want more details, they'll ask for them._

"You're an Order member, then."

"Was. I'm reconsidering now."

"The Order supports equal opportunities for Mudbloods, but not for werewolves?"

Bill recognised her use of the offensive word as an attempt to distract him. He wouldn't fall into that trap, though. "They're fine with me. It's me who's got the problem."

"It's changed your nature much, then?"

He thought it would be more convincing if he let some of his unease show upon that question. "I can't be around humans all the time anymore."

Cassidy nodded slightly and took a moment to observe him from head to toe. She studied his robe, brown and strategically chosen to be one size smaller than Bill's size, his long red hair that fell loose on his back, and seemed to find of particular interest the deep scars on his face.

"Sit," she eventually said.

His first small victory. He sat down opposite them. As they remained silent, scrutinising him, he seized the opportunity to do the same.

All three of them seemed no older than forty years old and were wearing patched robes. After another quick look at Rod, he studied Pedr. He seemed strong and had long black hair and dark eyes.

The most interesting of the three was Cassidy. She had the appearance of a woman that would have been very pretty, if she had lived under better circumstances. Now, her face was traced with the first signs of old age. The colour of her eyes was indistinguishable, having faded from all the years of living in the dark. Her brown hair, cut shorter than either of the two men's, fell limply on her shoulders. It kind of reminded him of Tonks in her days of depression.

The silence was dragging on for so long it was growing awkward. Bill wondered whether it would be better to leave and let them decide whether he was worthy of their trust.

Then, a woman appeared at the entrance of the cave. "Cassidy," she called.

"Yes?"

"Wulfric's back."

"Good."

The woman turned around and left. None of the leaders showed any signs of interest in the news, though Remus had warned Bill that they were the kind of people who rarely let things get past their hard exterior.

"Does this mean I have to leave?" he tried.

Cassidy fixed her eyes back on him. "And go where?"

"Home." Calculating carefully his chances, he added, "To my wife."

Cassidy's eyes showed a contained surprise. "You're married, then?"

"To a half-Veela." Although Fleur was only quarter Veela, this little white lie served his purpose better.

Indeed, Cassidy's face became thoughtful, and her gaze drifted towards the ceiling. "...Veelas are subject to discrimination too," she murmured. "Though not as much as we are."

"It's because they're beautiful," Bill commented.

Cassidy focused back on Bill. "Is your wife beautiful?"

"Yes."

"And would you leave her to live with us?"

"No," Bill said readily. "But I would like to have the chance to spend some time with you too."

Cassidy stared at him thoughtfully, scratching her cheek. Maybe because she was the one talking to him, her body language was a little more expressive. Rod and Pedr had been watching him with identically stern, unchanging expressions since he had first arrived.

"Wolves live in packs," she eventually said. Bill assumed she was trying to explain his desire to get closer to them. _They perceive themselves as more of wolves and less of humans. _She then reached behind her back and retrieved something from a bag. "Sausage?"

His second small victory.

**-End of chapter 11-**


	12. Education Issues

Thank you for reading so far. Here's chapter 12.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers. :)

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna. :)

-----

**-Chapter 12: Education issues-**

Minerva McGonagall was very troubled.

After reading the notes Dumbledore had left for the Headmaster that would succeed him, the previous evening, she had been faced with a major problem.

_The position of the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher has been cursed by none other than Voldemort himself. After I declined it to him, he cursed it so that no teacher would last for more than one year in it._

That explained a lot. But the problem still remained. As Dumbledore admitted further down in his letter – and as she had witnessed through the years – he had tried several methods to get around the curse, to no avail. The exact nature of the curse was unknown; he had been unable to even trace it.

An all-night-long session of perusing _Hogwarts, A History _and various books on curses had not been any help. It was late in the morning now, and she was in the library, the stress taking all sleepiness aside, but still stumped.

For a moment, she stared at the book she had closed just a few moments ago, then let out a dejected sigh. Magic wouldn't help her here. She had to _think_, try to come up with a way around the curse. She would be unable to hire a Defence teacher, knowing what danger she would be putting them under.

The thought of abolishing the position altogether flew momentarily in her mind for the millionth time, but she dismissed it yet again. It was a ludicrous idea. At these times, Defence Against the Dark Arts was the single most important subject a kid should study. As for renaming it, Dumbledore had already tried that – for two school years after the end of the First War, the subject had been named 'Self-Protection Methods', supposedly in order not to remind people of the Dark Arts. A few years later, apparently because he saw it was no use, Dumbledore had restored the name 'Defence Against the Dark Arts', reasoning that now that the memories of the Dark Arts had somehow faded in the memory of the wizarding public, it would be better to use the original name that had been used since the school had first operated.

So renaming was out of the question as well. And Dumbledore had already tried the abolish-and-reestablish method, too. The letter said that he had made the according arrangements in secrecy, during one of the 'Self-Protection Methods' years, but Voldemort's curse still hadn't been fooled. Former working experience in another position hadn't helped Quirrell – or Snape, for that matter; regardless of the reason, he surely wouldn't return to the school to teach Defence.

_Maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way,_ she thought. Maybe she had to try to fight the curse less and protect the teacher more.

Not that that was any easier. One year contracts hadn't worked. Granting a leave to the teacher and momentarily replacing him hadn't worked – at least, not for the original teacher. It had worked for the substitute teacher – Dumbledore was pointing out the case of Remus Lupin, who sometimes took days off and was replaced by Snape. Nothing had happened to Snape at the end of that year; perhaps he wasn't too exposed to the curse as a substitute.

But a school couldn't operate with only a substitute teacher. One can't substitute someone who isn't there in the first place, and Dumbledore's tactic of trying out methods around the curse by, essentially, hiring test subjects did not appeal to her at all. She could never look someone in the eye and offer them a position that she knew was cursed.

So where did that leave her? With a subject that had to be taught, but was cursed to bring nasty consequences to those who dared take up the position. She had to find a solution, because if she didn't, since the Educational Decree Number Twenty-two was still in effect, the Ministry would end up assigning someone of their own choice. Someone who would have no idea what they would be getting themselves into. Not to mention, McGonagall didn't want to risk ending up with another Umbridge in the school.

Dolores Umbridge. Even the thought of that toad-faced woman made McGonagall mad. She had brought the school into a state of complete disarray, she had contributed to the misleading of the public, and was even partly responsible for the battle at the Ministry and Sirius Black's passing – if Dumbledore had been at the school, close to Harry, he would have been able to prevent this, McGonagall was sure. In the end, all the bad things that had happened that year were connected to Dolores Umbridge somehow. The only good thing that had come out of her presence was...

...Wait a minute...

A smile slowly formed on McGonagall's face. Yes, that wasn't a bad idea, actually. It could work. It _would _work.

She returned to her office. There, she could work out the details of her plan.

-----

Remus was home, making a cup of tea for himself. Tonight was a full moon night, and his nerves were already wrecked.

A happy "Wotcher!" surprised him. Tonks was standing by the kitchen door. He hadn't heard her arrive.

"Hey there," he greeted her with a smile and put the teapot down. She literally bounced her way to him and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"I've got it," she said.

"You've got what?"

"It's in the living room."

"What is it?"

"Come see."

He let himself be dragged by the hand to the living room, where she proudly showed him a small bottle filled with a thin, brown liquid resting on the coffee table. His eyes widened.

"Don't tell me..."

"It's Wolfsbane Potion!" she said proudly. "I finally managed to get it right. I know it's late, but even now, a cup of it could only do you good, right?"

"Tonks, you really shouldn't -"

"Don't be silly," she said, playfully smacking his shoulder blade, "of course I should. It's practice for me, too. It helps me be more careful with my movements."

"That's true. I didn't even hear you arrive."

Tonks beamed.

"I'll have a cup, then," Remus said with a smile and walked over to retrieve the bottle.

"I've got some for Bill, too," she said. "How can I contact him?"

"It will be difficult," Remus warned her. He went to the kitchen, and she followed him. "It would be better if he didn't receive anything from his wizarding fellows for the next few days. But in any case, I don't think he needs it. The transformation doesn't affect his mind, isn't that what he'd said?" He served himself some Wolfsbane Potion and then proceeded with pouring Tonks some tea.

"Yeah," she answered his question. "Well, it affects it a bit, particularly his temper, but on the whole he keeps his human conscience."

"That's enough. Besides, it might serve him well to maintain a bit of wolf conscience, since he'll be surrounded by werewolves."

They sat down with their drinks. Tonks watched Remus anxiously as he took his cup and sipped some potion.

"How is it?"

He made a face of disgust. "Awful." He shuddered. "Exactly how it's supposed to be."

"Oh," she said, and her frown relaxed a little.

"It must have been difficult to make."

"You have no idea," Tonks said with a sigh. "I've never encountered such a potion before. It gives the word 'precision' a whole new meaning. If you add something just one second later, it's ruined. Same if you're just the tiniest bit off on the quantities. And then you've got the problem with the ingredients. Most of them are very rare. That Tebo blood costs a fortune."

Remus's head snapped up and he looked at her, mortified.

"Oh, no," she whimpered, wishing the floor would open and swallow her already. "Well, it wasn't really that expensive. On second thoughts, it was a very logical price." The stern glare he was giving her made her feel uneasy. "Please, forget I said that."

"Tonks, how much was it?" he asked seriously.

"Not that much, really. It's just that I had to buy a big quantity, since it took me so many tries to get it right." She took his hand. "Don't feel bad about it, OK?"

Remus was torn. Part of him was angry, because he knew she was lying so that he wouldn't feel guilty. And part of him was touched that she had spent so much time and money for him, and didn't even think it was worth making a fuss over it.

He smiled at her, and promised himself once again that he'd always try his best to make her the happiest woman alive. She deserved nothing less than that.

-----

Rufus Scrimgeour could not believe his eyes.

And yet, the letter he had just received from Minerva McGonagall stated it very clearly: She was abolishing the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, and replacing it with student-directed study groups.

_Student-directed study groups! _As if it wasn't bad enough that the school would operate after all, eating up resources that could be spent more effectively in the war against He Who Must Not Be Named and putting the kids at risk! All the wizarding children of ages eleven to seventeen separated from their families and living under the protection of a handful of wizards! It was scandalous to even think of. But if the Governing Board of Hogwarts had decided so, the Ministry could only accept it. The Ministry had minimal power on Hogwarts and the other educational institutions of Britain, and most responsibilities were passed on their Governing Boards, in an effort to encourage independent education, free from governmental propaganda.

But banishing Defence? What in the world was more important than Defence right now? If the kids were going to Hogwarts in order to 'learn', the first thing they should learn was how to fight the Dark curses and creatures, and not how to interpret Ancient Runes or Transfigure desks to pigs! If McGonagall had found the time to hire a new Transfiguration teacher, what had stopped her from hiring a Defence teacher too?

This didn't bode well. Even supposing the older students could teach the younger ones – and that was doubtful, since knowing something and being able to teach it were two very, very different things – someone _had _to teach the older ones. Moreover, someone had to introduce _new _knowledge to the school. In the midst of a war, recycling old knowledge from a curriculum that was designed to offer academic knowledge to students was little help. After being informed that Hogwarts would operate, he had intended to get in touch with McGonagall, suggest a curriculum renovation and one of the Aurors for the Defence teacher position, but now she had shattered that plan.

He examined his options. Minerva McGonagall was officially appointed Headmistress of the school. She was the authority on directing the operation of the school. The Board and the Ministry could only interfere in case the school's operation proved to be dysfunctional or otherwise inappropriate. Banishing Defence was definitely inappropriate, but the school hadn't start operating yet.

He sighed. He couldn't wait until the school started operating, then another one or two months to prove that yes, McGonagall's system was ineffective, and _then _replace it with a Ministry-suggested one. That would mean valuable time wasted. The Death Eaters had already managed to attack the school once, which meant that they could easily hit anytime. The kids would need to be prepared as best as possible for such an event.

He grabbed a quill and quickly scribbled a couple of memos, requesting to see Aristotle Newst and Hestia Jones, the Education Consultant and Assistant Consultant respectively. Since he had been in office, he had given them more important roles, not wanting to repeat Fudge's mistakes with Dolores Umbridge. They were more familiar with the education-related laws, and perhaps they could figure out the best way to deal with McGonagall's outrageous idea.

A few minutes later, the two of them were entering his office.

"You requested to see us, Rufus?" Newst asked.

"Yes, Aristotle, Hestia. Please, sit down." They did as told. "Have a look at this."

Scrimgeour handed McGonagall's letter to Newst, who read it with a pensive expression on his face, and then gave it to Hestia. She read carefully, nodding all the way, then left it on Scrimgeour's office.

"What do you make of this?" Scrimgeour asked them.

Newst seemed deep in thought for a moment, rubbing his bearded chin with a faraway look in his eyes. Eventually, he turned to the Minister and spoke. "I think it's actually a good idea."

Scrimgeour was taken aback. "You do?"

"Definitely. I can see she's aiming for a way to approach the students, rather than please the adults. That's very intelligent of her, and shows how great a pedagogue she is."

"Would you mind being a little more specific, Aristotle?" Scrimgeour said impatiently.

"I'm sorry, Rufus. What I meant to say is that Minerva McGonagall is obviously very aware that teenagers are more likely to dedicate themselves to something if they don't feel they're forced into it. Student-directed study groups will of course require some sort of internal organisation, but at the same time will make for a friendly climate for the kids to work in."

"Kids are more likely to slack off if nobody's watching over them!" Scrimgeour countered.

"If you'll allow me, sir," Hestia intervened.

"Yes, Hestia, tell me."

"I agree with Mr Newst that Professor McGonagall's idea has merit. There are a few issues she might not have thought through, but it's early yet. We could help her organise the concept better, mail her our suggestions and ideas. Regarding the fear of kids slacking off, for example, we could introduce some kind of testing, exams, or a competition."

"Or, the rest of the teachers could drop by the classrooms where the kids would be practising and make sure they're working," Newst suggested.

"Still," Scrimgeour said, not fully convinced yet, "there's still the problem of what the kids will be able to learn. Without a teacher, the knowledge they'll have access to will be limited."

"Not at all," Hestia argued. "Hogwarts has one of the most comprehensive libraries in Britain."

"That's true," Newst agreed. "And the rest of the teachers can agree to monitor the groups' progress and help them deal with the hardest parts. Perhaps we could have some of the most reliable students lead the groups, following an approved schedule. Sort of like the Prefects system works"

"Besides," Hestia added, "by giving them more responsibilities we help them mature more quickly and learn how to deal with problems of grown-up people. If they find themselves in a battle situation, they'll need it."

"I see you have many ideas," Scrimgeour eventually said. "I will leave it up to you to make sure that McGonagall's plan turns out for the best. Stay in touch with her and offer your views, your advice, whatever you deem necessary."

"We will, sir," Hestia said and rose.

"Don't worry, Rufus," Newst said, "everything will be all right."

The two of them excused themselves and left Scrimgeour's office. They walked down the hallway and took the first lift that arrived. Thankfully for them, it was empty.

"We did it!" Hestia whispered intensely, once the grilles behind them had shut.

"Yeah, it wasn't very difficult," Newst agreed, smiling. "I expected him to be more difficult to persuade."

"We were well prepared, though." Hestia winked. "And, I don't know about you, but I meant what I said."

"Yeah, I know. I mean, it's risky, but it can work. To tell you the truth, though, I'd die to know why she thought it was necessary."

"Me too. For her to propose such an innovation, it has to be something very big."

Newst nodded. "Well, I guess there must be a very important reason why she can't tell us. I trust her."

"Definitely. If there's one thing to be said for McGonagall, is that she always knows what she's doing. I'm glad we managed to help her."

The lift grilles opened and they exited the elevator. "I'm going to sent her a Patronus and tell her that everything went fine," Newst whispered to Hestia. "You start working on the official letter."

"OK," she said.

They silently walked down the hallway to their department. Hestia sat in the desk in her medium-sized cubicle, while Newst approached the secretary and asked her not to disturb him for the next few minutes.

-----

As he had told Remus, Bill had planned to spend this full moon with the werewolves. It would be a test for him to see how the true werewolves would react about his half-transformed self. He wasn't really afraid, just a little nervous. The good thing was that, from what he had gathered from the leaders, they wouldn't blame him if he tried to avoid getting bitten. He had assured them he would stick around anyway, and he could see that that had earned him points in their eyes.

When sunset approached, Bill moved away from the caves, at a distance where he could watch and determine whether he would be in danger or not.

Finally, the full moon came out. Bill curled in a small ball and tried to keep away the pain, but to no avail. Thankfully, it stopped soon enough; and when it did, Bill managed to pay attention to all the screaming and howling coming from the werewolves in the caves. It was horrific. Bill had seen and fought hundreds of evil curses, but witnessing dozens of people suffering like that and knowing he could do nothing to prevent it was unbearable.

He could guess the transformations were over when the screaming stopped. He squinted towards the direction of the caves and wondered whether he should go there or wait until they'd find him. Calculating his chances, he slowly headed to the cave of the leaders on four legs – when transformed, he could walk equally well on two or four legs.

Once there, he peeked in. Three wolves were there; the black one was surely Pedr, the brown one should be Cassidy, and the light brown, silverish one could only be Rod. They all seemed to sense his presence and turned towards him, throwing him looks he interpreted as curious. Then, they started to approach him.

_Show them you respect them, but you're not afraid of them._

Bill stayed in place, reminding himself to remain calm as the three wolves approached. Their steps were slow, deliberate, their eyes were fixed on him, scrutinising him, and they were sniffing in his scent hungrily.

When they were a few steps away from him, they stopped. He let out a bark as wolfish as he could. Cassidy took one step closer, and barked as well.

Bill wondered if it meant something. He could feel something inquiring in her tone, but for all he knew it could only be his imagination. He concentrated on the thought _It's me, Bill _and barked again. The bark sounded same as the previous ones to his ears, but apparently, it was good enough for Cassidy. As she and the other two wolves retreated to the back of the cave, the bark she gave him was most clearly inviting.

A big victory, this time.

**-End of chapter 12-**


	13. Godric's Hollow

Thank you for reading so far. Here's chapter 13.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers. :)

This chapter is specially dedicated to Ely. :) Hope you're having a great time!

Please read and review. All comments (on plot, characterization, spelling, you name it) are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy.

Anna. :)

-----

**-Chapter 13: Godric's Hollow-**

Harry's birthday was approaching, and he was glad to note that he had made a lot of progress since he had left Hogwarts. The same was also true for Ron and Hermione, although they often sacrificed their own progress in order to assist him.

He was now sitting in the room that, since Bill had moved out, was occupied by Charlie alone, and was taking a last look at one of Bill's books on detection magic. Ron, Hermione and Ginny were locked in Ron and Harry's room and were charming various objects, so that he could practise on detecting them and recognising the kind of spell they were under.

Eventually, Ginny came over to fetch him. They returned to Ron and Harry's room. Harry looked around, satisfied with his friends' work; there were no obvious signs of magic anywhere.

He started running his wand over the Chudley Cannons poster on the door, murmuring an incantation. Finding no magic traces, he moved on to the posters on the wall. Then, reaching a pile of books on the floor, he knelt to examine them.

All the books seemed untouched, but with his magic he spotted that one of them was under some kind of spell. He looked at it more closely and started murmuring another incantation. "It's Ginny's," he pronounced. After a while of examining it, he said, "A Cheering Charm."

The other three teenagers neither confirmed nor deny that. Hermione just took a note on her notebook.

-----

After almost two and a half hours, Harry stated, "That's all."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

He nodded.

"You don't want to take another look at anything?"

"No, I'm done."

"Good, then," she said and went near him to show him how he had scored. "You missed the candleholder on the bedside table and one of the books in the bookcase. You seem to get confused when there are two objects in a small space charmed by the same person."

Harry nodded.

"Also, a few times you mistook Ginny's wand for mine and vice versa; I'm guessing because they both have a dragon heartstring core. It was me who charmed the curtain and the sock, and Ginny who charmed the poster over the bed."

The boy nodded again. "And how about recognising the kind of magic?"

"Oh, you did great at that," she said with a smile. "Just Ron's charm on the closet handle, that gave you a hard time?"

"It wasn't a Conjunctivitis Curse, was it?"

"No, but close enough. It was a Lachrymal Charm."

"Lachrymal Charm," he repeated thoughtfully.

"Great job, though," Hermione said. "You're on a very good track."

"Should we set up challenges for you and Ron as well?"

"No, there's no need to. We've only got a few days until we leave – you just make sure to master as many magic skills as you can."

"I think we've done a little bit of everything..." Harry mused aloud.

"You know what we haven't done?" Ron said. "Practice Apparition. Dad said we can apply for Apparition licences whenever we want, and they'll set up a test for us."

"Good, then," Harry said. "I think that we'll have Apparition mastered by my birthday. And we can go for the applications the day Tonks will take me to ask for authorisation to visit Azkaban."

"Let's start, then."

"Can I watch?" Ginny asked.

"Sure," Harry said and turned to Hermione. "What were the three Ds again?"

"Don't dare mention them," Ron warned, as the girl made to open her mouth. "I don't want to hear these three words again for the rest of my life."

"...You know, Harry," Hermione said, mildly amused at Ron's reaction, "I don't think it's really all that important to remember them. You know how it works now, don't you?"

"Yeah, well. Let me try."

It took him quite longer than it was supposed to, but eventually he managed to Apparate beside the bookcase.

"Well done, Harry!"

"I was going for the door."

"Oh."

-----

The 31st of July finally came. A small party was in order to celebrate Harry's coming of age. Most of Harry's good friends were there; namely, the Burrow people, the twins, Bill – who was by now spending several days a week with the werewolves – with Fleur, Remus and Tonks. They all delighted in Molly's cooking and allowed themselves to relax a little.

The following day, however, signalled the beginning of Harry, Ron and Hermione's adventure. They took their schoolbags, which were now filled with clothes and other necessary items, Disillusioned themselves and left the Burrow on broom – Hermione had borrowed George's old Cleansweep 5 – heading northwards, to Godric's Hollow. Harry had promised himself he wouldn't do anything before visiting it.

The distance between the Burrow and Godric's Hollow was approximately 250 miles. Harry and Ron alone could have covered it in less than three hours, but Hermione's broomstick couldn't reach a speed higher than 50 miles per hour – and even when it reached that, it trembled so much Hermione landed immediately in fear. Eventually, they agreed to a moderate 45 miles per hour, Hermione flying between Ron and Harry for good measure.

Once that was settled, the travel went smoothly. They had to stop mid-way for lunch, and eventually reached Godric's Hollow late in the afternoon.

It was a small village located near the moors of North York, inhabited mainly – but not exclusively – by wizards. The three teenagers landed just outside it, lifted the Disillusionment Charm off themselves and Transfigured their broomsticks into spoons, which they stuffed in their bags, so as not to attract any Muggles' attention.

They followed the road to the village, and it wasn't long until they saw a man walking at the opposite direction.

"Excuse me, sir," Harry asked him politely, "can you tell us where the cemetery is?"

"It's at the east end of the village," he said, gesturing towards its general direction. "I assume you don't know the village?"

"No, it's our first time here."

"Well, the easiest way would be to take this way down to the Square and from there the road to the cemetery, but that's twice as long a distance. Look, why don't ya follow the cypresses? See them sticking up?" the man said, pointing.

"...Yes," Harry said, squinting.

"Well, follow the way that will take you closer to that direction. Take the first road to the right, and from there you'll find your way."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome, kids!" He touched his hat in means of greeting them and went his way, as they started their way towards the cemetery.

-----

The walk was pleasant and not very long. Eventually, they reached the cemetery, which was built in white stone.

A man was sitting in a booth in the entrance, reading a newspaper. The three teenagers approached the booth.

"Excuse me," Harry said, "can you show us the graves of James and Lily Potter?"

The man looked up from his paper and looked at Harry. The moment he saw him, a grin formed on his lips.

"Ah, Harry Potter. I knew I'd see you here someday."

Harry's hand awkwardly reached up to trace his scar. "You recognise me?"

"Of course."

"Did you know my parents?"

"Not well, but I did. You look a lot like your father, you know."

Harry bit back the 'Yes, I _know._' Thankfully, at least the man made no mention to his mother's green eyes.

"Their graves are in the second to last row," the man said, "down that path and on your left."

"Thank you, sir."

The man returned to his newspaper, and the three teenagers followed his instructions.

They found the graves easily. Harry's parents were resting next to each other; their gravestones were simple, made by white marble. James's read 'James Potter, a good father, loyal friend and brave fighter' and Lily's read 'Lily Evans-Potter, a good mother, loyal friend and brave fighter'. On top of each gravestone was carved a phoenix.

"I didn't bring them any flowers," Harry suddenly realised, seeing the bare gravestones.

Hermione put her arm around his shoulder. "I'm sure they're just happy to see you here."

Harry's heart started to feel heavy, and he sighed. Ron and Hermione took a few steps away, knowing that he would like to spend some moments alone with the memory of his parents.

Harry pulled out his wand, conjured two white roses and placed one on each gravestone, then took a step back and looked at them. He stayed there for a long while, never crying, but blinking away the tears that kept forming.

Eventually, he wiped his eyes and turned to his friends. "I think we can leave now."

"Are you sure?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded.

Together they all headed to the exit of the cemetery, overcome with emotion.

"You leaving already?" the man asked when he saw them by the booth.

"Yes," Harry said. "Listen, is there an inn or something where we could spend the night? With working fireplaces, if possible."

The man grinned, understanding Harry's underlying message. "There's a small inn in the village, but it's owned by a Muggle. You could ask Mrs Fairweather for accommodation, though. That's what all of us do, when we need a place to stay."

"All right, we will. Can you tell us where it is?"

"Take the road down to the Square, then go on and turn right at the -" he took a moment to count mentally "- third road. It's the third house on your left."

"OK, thank you."

"Oh, and Harry?" the man called again, as the three teenagers made to leave.

"Yes?"

"While you're there, take a good look at the _second _house on your left." Seeing Harry's intrigued expression, he added with a half-grin, "It's what people over here call 'The Potter House'."

Harry's face lit up. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

-----

The clouds that had been floating in the sky all day were turning darker now. The three teenagers made their way to the Potter house hurriedly, not wanting to find themselves outside during a rainstorm.

They finally saw it; a two-story cottage that looked like it had once been a pleasant home. Now, the walls were weathered and grey, and all the windows were broken. Two trees were planted outside, and several planks in the fence were broken or misplaced.

As they stared at it melancholically, a rock was thrown at a window. They turned to see where it had come from and saw three boys, about twelve or thirteen years old, gathered together. Seeing the older kids, they stepped back and started to run.

"Hey!" Harry called, then ran behind them. He easily caught up with them and grabbed one of the boys from the arm. The other two kept running, but Harry ignored them. "Why are you throwing rocks at that house?"

"For the ghosts," the boy said, his eyes wide.

"What ghosts?"

Ron and Hermione were approaching now as well.

"That house is haunted," the boy explained, looking terrified. "You don't know what happened?"

"No, what happened?"

The boy pointed at the house and leaned in to whisper the story at Harry's ear, as if afraid to say it out loud. "There lived a couple with their son. And one day, poof, they were all gone!"

"Just like that?" Harry asked, pretending to be clueless. He was curious to know what the Muggles knew about his parents.

"Yes! Some people said they moved, but it can't be true. Nobody saw them move."

"And how do you know?"

"My mum told me."

Harry nodded. "And you've seen the ghosts?"

"No, no!" The boy shuddered. "That's why we throw rocks at them, so that they won't come out."

Harry nodded again and threw a look at the house, then released the boy's arm. The boy took instinctively a step back. "Do what you will, but I can assure you there are no ghosts in this house."

The boy nodded, clearly unconvinced, then left hastily.

"I don't think he believed you, mate," Ron said, patting Harry's shoulder.

Harry shrugged.

"That house should be yours, shouldn't it?" Hermione asked, taking another look at it.

"Technically, yes," Harry replied, "but it probably isn't. Someone would have told me if it were."

"And that must be Mrs Fairweather's house," Ron said, pointing at the house next to it; a two-story house bigger than the Potter house, built in grey stone, obscured by several trees that were planted in the garden. The fence surrounding it was high, made by strong, black-painted iron wrought in an ornate pattern. "Let's see if she'll take us in, before it starts to pour."

They walked up to the iron gate; a small bell was hanging beside it, a thread hanging from its clapper. Hermione pulled it gently and made it ring. Moments later, an old, grey-haired lady in a long dress was coming near them.

"How can I help you, my children?" she asked pleasantly.

"Are you Mrs Fairweather?" Harry asked.

"Yes," she said with a smile, turning to him. When she noticed the scar on his forehead, her eyes and mouth rounded in surprise.

"Can we spend the night here, please?"

That brought her mind back on track. "Oh, by all means," she said brightly and opened the door for them. "Come in."

-----

Mrs Fairweather's house was quite big and decorated the old-fashioned way, if a little dark. She led them upstairs and showed them two rooms.

"This room is for the young lady, and this one is for you, boys. There are clean sheets and towels in the closets. You can use the bathroom down the hallway, and there's another one downstairs if you need it. I will be at the kitchen. Make yourself at home."

"Is there a fireplace we could use?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes, sure. It's in the living room. I have it fully opened, so you can visit any house you want. The Floo Powder is in a jar on the fireplace border."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, kids. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

She left them alone and went downstairs.

"Where do you want to go?" Hermione asked Harry.

"I want to talk to Tonks, to see if Ron and I can go to the Ministry tomorrow. It's not a problem for you, Ron, is it?"

"Of course not," the red-headed boy said.

"What's her address again?"

Ron frowned. "...Unison Street?"

"Unity Street," Hermione remembered. "Number 48, flat 31."

"Thanks."

"Want me to come with you?" Ron asked him.

"No, I'll be fine."

"Then, I think I'll go see if Mrs Fairweather has anything to eat. I'm starving."

"And I'm going to take a shower," Hermione said.

"OK, then," Harry said. "I'll see you later."

With that, he and Ron headed downstairs, while Hermione went to her room to find a towel.

-----

The trip through the fireplaces was as unpleasant and dizziness-inducing as Harry remembered it. But his relief on its being over quickly faded, upon the realisation that his head had ended up in front of a brick wall.

"Damn it," he muttered. "Tonks? Tonks!" Something like a reply came from the other side of the wall. "Tonks!"

"...coming!" he heard more clearly this time. "Gimme a minute!"

Harry exhaled heavily and waited. A little later, he heard Tonks's voice again, this time coming from right behind the wall.

"Who is it?"

"It's me, Harry!"

The wall disappeared and Tonks appeared, her bubble-gum-pink hair dripping. "Wotcher, Harry. Sorry I had the fireplace closed, I was just out of the shower. Why don't you come over whole?"

"No, I'm fine, I'll just stay a minute."

"All right, then." She knelt in front of her end of the fireplace, so that their faces were at the same level. "What brings you here?"

"I was wondering if I could see your boss tomorrow, about the authorisation to visit Azkaban."

She shrugged. "Yeah, sure. There shouldn't be a problem."

"What time will you be there? I'd like to know there's a friendly face around there."

"I've got morning shift, so any time between six in the morning to two in the afternoon."

Harry nodded. "OK. Tell me something, will I be able to choose when to visit Azkaban, or will he give me a particular date and time?"

"You can choose."

"And do I get an Auror to accompany me?"

"No, you'll have to go on your own."

Harry grimaced in displeasure. "But I don't know how to get there!"

"It's really easy. You just Apparate outside Sunderland -"

"First of all," he cut in, "I don't have an Apparition licence, and second, there are more than one places 'outside Sunderland' to Apparate to."

Tonks winced. "Yeah, well, I guess you'll have to go with someone who knows the way. But you can't ask for an Auror. There are not enough of us to escort civilians to Azkaban too."

"Can't I go with you, when you'll have a shift there?"

Tonks shook her head. "They don't give me shifts away from the Ministry anymore, because I spent the whole school year in Hogsmeade."

"Kingsley Shacklebolt?"

"They don't order him away from the Muggle Prime Minister's office unless it's a very serious emergency. Look, why don't you go with one of the older Weasleys? You just need someone to take you to Sunderland, and from there on it's very easy."

Harry nodded. "I guess I'll ask Mrs Weasley, or Charlie."

"Yeah, do that. D'you need anything else?"

"No, thanks, that's all. And how are you?

"Oh, fine. As I was telling you yesterday, things are very quiet."

"Let's hope they'll stay that way."

Tonks nodded solemnly. "I wish, but I don't think it's likely. So tell me, did you see your parents' graves?"

Harry nodded.

"Are you still in Godric's Hollow?"

"Yeah, we're staying with an old witch. She seems very nice."

"The people over there are nice," Tonks said with a smile. "So, the three of you take care of yourselves, OK?"

"All right. Ron and I will see you tomorrow, OK?"

"Sure. Bye."

"Bye."

-----

The rest of the evening went by smoothly, with Harry and Ron putting Mrs Fairweather's chessboard and pieces into good use, Hermione resting in her room, reading Rowena Ravenclaw's biography, and Mrs Fairweather cooking, thrilled to have some company. She didn't have a family, and didn't have many relations with the other people of the village; however, she enjoyed having people around, which was why she was always happy to provide travellers with a nice meal and a room to spend the night in.

The four of them had dinner together in the kitchen. Mrs Fairweather had prepared a lovely roast beef with potatoes, which the three teenagers devoured with lots of gusto.

"I am so happy you came over, kids," she told them. "How long are you going to stay?"

"We're planning to leave the morning after tomorrow," Harry answered. "Also, Ron and I would like to use your fireplace tomorrow morning too, if you don't mind."

"I sure don't," she said with a smile. "And you, my young lady, won't be joining them?" she asked Hermione.

Hermione's mouth was full, so she limited herself to shaking her head.

"Mrs Fairweather," Ron asked, "since you live here, would you happen to know who does the Potter house belong to?"

"Yes, my dear, I do," Mrs Fairweather replied nicely, although her expression had darkened at the thought. "It belongs to Severus Snape."

Harry choked on his food; it took a couple of hard hits on the back from Ron for him to breathe again. Ron and Hermione were no less shocked to hear that.

"Yes, my dears, it's true," she said. Despite her friendly demeanour, she couldn't hide the loathing she had for the man. "Back then, he was supposedly posing as a Death Eater while working for Dumbledore, and the idea was that You-Know-Who wouldn't come to look for the Potters in a house that belonged to one of his servants. But of course, they ended up dead anyway..." She shook her head. "Such a shame."

"So did Voldemort know that the house really belonged to Snape?"

Mrs Fairweather shuddered upon hearing Voldemort's name. "I don't know. I suppose he did."

Harry shared a look with his friends.

"Could work both ways," Hermione said, and Harry thought she was right: As an Order member, he was providing the Potters with a hiding place, and as a Death Eater, he could claim he was helping set the trap. Voldemort would have appreciated that, although in fact, since he hadn't been their Secret Keeper, he was hardly any help at all.

Another point in favour of Snape.

**-End of chapter 13-**


	14. The Azkaban Visit

My apologies for taking so long to post this chapter. :( I've had it ready all the while, but lately I haven't been able to concentrate on working on the later chapters of this story so I decided to slow down posting a bit.

In any case, thank you for reading so far and for being patient. Hope you will find this chapter worth the wait.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers. :)

Please read and review. All comments are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

I hope you enjoy reading.

Anna. :)

-----

**-Chapter 14: The Azkaban visit-**

The following morning, Harry and Ron took the Floo to the Ministry. They first visited the Apparition Test Centre, where they were told they had to visit the registry and get copies of their records first, then come back and fill an application requesting to be examined for an Apparition licence. Once everything was done, they submitted their papers to a wizard. He checked them and gave each of them an examination date – three days later, Harry first, Ron second.

That settled, they stopped by Mr Weasley's office to say hi, then went to the Auror Headquarters so that Harry could see the Head of the Auror office, Gawain Robards.

They found Tonks, and, after she chatted with them for a minute, she went to inform Robards that Harry wanted to see him. Harry found half-amusing, half-pathetic the fact that once Robards heard that, he shooed at once the visitors he had and accepted him in. He walked into the office confidently and shook Robards's hand.

"Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, my boy," Robards said, with an unnaturally big smile. "Have a seat, please. How can I help you?"

"I would like an authorisation to visit Azkaban, sir."

Robards's face fell. Apparently, he was also part of the clique that wanted to take Harry Potter by the Ministry's side. Harry was not surprised; he still remembered Scrimgeour telling him that, should he choose to side with the Ministry, they would make sure to accept him for Auror training. Robards had probably hoped that that was what Harry had come for.

"Very well," Robards said, and wore a professional look as he produced a piece of parchment. "Who would you like to visit?"

"Mundungus Fletcher."

"What for?"

Harry pondered that for a minute. "Personal matters."

Robards gave him a stern look. "I am afraid I cannot accept this justification unless he is a relative of yours, which, to my knowledge, he is not."

"He has been stealing valuable antiques that belong to me."

Robards's eyes rounded. "Well, if that's the case..." He took a quill and started writing on the parchment. "When do you want to visit him?"

"This afternoon, if it's possible."

"Very well." He continued to write. "You will be granted a half-hour visit to Mundungus Fletcher. There will be a guard watching you, but without overhearing your discussion. You will have to be wandless during your conversation with the prisoner." He finished writing and passed the parchment to Harry. "If you agree with these terms, sign here."

Harry signed the document, then Robards signed it too and gave it to Harry. "When you reach the Azkaban barrier, throw white sparkles in the air and a guard will come over. Show it to them to be granted entrance."

"Thank you," Harry said politely. He took the parchment and shook Robards's hand.

"Pleased to be of help. For anything else you might need, don't hesitate to contact me."

Harry exited the office, met Ron outside and they returned to the Atrium, from where they took the Floo back to Mrs Fairweather's house.

"You are back already!" she exclaimed, once Harry stepped out of the fireplace; Ron followed him seconds later. She and Hermione were sitting in the small table, playing cards. "Hermione and I were playing Black Nicholas here."

"A card game for grannies," Ron whispered in Harry's ear.

Harry nodded.

"She is very good, you know, especially for an amateur. Would you boys like to join us?"

"I've never played it before," Harry said.

"It's not difficult to learn," Mrs Fairweather said with a smile. "Come on, boys, join us for a while."

The boys shrugged, and, since they had nothing better to do, they decided to give Black Nicholas a shot.

-----

Neville Longbottom didn't join his grandmother for breakfast that morning. When Ilky, the house elf, had gone to his room to call him over, he had asked to have breakfast in his bedroom instead because he was busy with his correspondence. This had troubled Mrs Longbottom a little; Neville always followed the norm of the house. There should be a serious reason why he had refused to do so this morning.

"_He's an adult now, Augusta, don't treat him like a child."_

She smiled to herself, remembering the words her brother had spoken to her just a few days ago. Yes, Neville was an adult now; but in his heart, he was still the boy she had taken care of since he was just a baby. He still needed her guidance and support, if only to give him confidence – something he always lacked. If he had never spoken back to her, it wasn't because he was afraid of her; it was because he knew she was always doing what was best for him.

Mrs Longbottom had faith in her grandson. He had been awkward and clumsy as a child, but he was growing up to be a wonderful young man; smart, noble and courageous. She was very proud of him – sometimes even prouder than she had been of her own son.

A while later, Neville came down the staircase, holding a letter. Mrs Longbottom looked up from her needlework upon hearing his footsteps.

"Neville, here you are."

"Good morning, Gran," he said, looking thoughtful.

"Why didn't you come down for breakfast?"

Neville sat on the sofa, close to his grandmother's armchair, and took a quick look at the letter he was holding before answering. "It's from Hogwarts."

"Oh, it came at last," Mrs Longbottom said. "It took a long time this year. Then again, with all the problems, it was to be expected. Did it include the list of the supplies you will need?"

"Uh, yes," Neville said, although it was obvious that he couldn't care less about that list. "Gran..."

His tone revealed he had something serious in mind, just like Mrs Longbottom had predicted. "What is it, Neville?"

He took a moment to gather all his courage. "I don't want to go to Hogwarts this year."

Mrs Longbottom looked at her grandson, her lips pursed and as she considered this unexpected development. "Then?"

Neville's gaze fell to the carpeted floor for a moment, and he took a deep breath before looking back at her and answering. "I want to fight. I can go back to school and complete my education later, but what we need now is people to fight the Death Eaters. I've done it before, and I know I can be of help."

At the end of Neville's speech, Mrs Longbottom's grim expression turned to a big smile. "Just like your father," she said proudly. Neville was happy and relieved to see the severity gone from her face. "So, what are you planning to do?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I'm thinking about sending a letter to Harry – you know, Harry Potter. He's very set against fighting You-Know-Who, he might... I don't know, take me along or something. I don't know his address, though – d'you think our owl will find him?"

"Cleo finds everyone," his grandmother assured him. "Go ahead, contact Harry. He'll probably be able to help you."

Neville stared at her thoughtfully for a moment before getting up. "You really don't mind me doing that?"

She smiled kindly at him. "No, Neville."

"I thought you'd be worried... that you'd be afraid of me getting hurt."

Her smile didn't falter as she spoke again. "Come here."

He obeyed. He left the sofa and moved close to her. When she opened her arms, he knelt down and let her embrace him – a gesture she didn't make very often.

"Of course I'm worried, my son," she said, her voice firm and steady. "But it's what you have to do. And I'm proud that you made this choice."

She let go of him. He stood up straight and gave her a confident look. "I won't disappoint you."

"I know you won't," she whispered.

He smiled and left, heading to his bedroom. Mrs Longbottom watched him, smiling as well. He was gone from her sight when the first tear rolled down her face.

-----

Draco Malfoy was watching the road outside the Malfoy Mansion, his hands clutching the iron bars of the gates. Narcissa couldn't see his face from where she was standing, just beside the open manor door, but she could picture the narrowed eyes and tightly shut lips; she had grown used to seeing them accompany his so often grim mood these past few weeks.

"It's getting worse every day," she told Snape, who was standing behind the door, invisible to outsiders. "I could handle it when he was just bored, but now he's growing harsh and irritable. I don't know what to do anymore."

"Are you afraid he's going to get himself in danger?"

"He wouldn't dare leave the house," she said. "But that's what frustrates him the most. He can't sit here doing nothing, but he doesn't want to get us in trouble either."

Snape looked at the boy pensively. He recognised the dilemma Draco was facing; he had faced a similar one a long time ago...

"And Lucius?" Narcissa asked, not meeting Snape's eyes.

"Still the same," Snape said, an indistinct trace of sorrow in his voice. "He misses you."

"But he won't look for us," she said bitterly.

"Narcissa." He put his arm on her shoulder. "I have explained to you that the Dark Lord interpreted your disappearance as treason."

"And he was right to."

"My point is, whoever looks for you will be considered a traitor."

"Bellatrix still stops by every so often."

"That's all the searching she does, though."

"Lucius doesn't even do that."

Snape exhaled heavily. "He's in a difficult position."

"It's not a difficult position," she spat. "When I found myself between the Dark Lord and my family, I made up my mind in a second. But he obviously cares about the Dark Lord more than he cares about his family."

"If you want me to, I could try to talk to him again. Now that he knows what it's like to live without you two -"

"No," she cut him harshly. "Don't tell him. He must make this choice on his own, otherwise it means nothing."

Snape frowned and nodded, to show that he respected her wish.

"I must go now," he said.

"Please, stay a little longer to talk to Draco." Narcissa's stony expression suddenly turned to worried at the thought of her son. "Draco!" she called. "Come in, Severus is here."

Snape eyed Draco warily as the boy started to walk towards them with heavy steps. "Are you sure he'd like to see me?"

"It's either you or me, and I've already done everything I could."

Draco walked in. Narcissa entered behind him and shut the door.

"Here you are," the boy told Snape harshly.

"Yes," Snape answered coldly. Understanding the boy didn't mean he would allow him to disrespect him.

Draco glared at the older man, but didn't speak.

"Be patient, Draco."

"Patience!" Draco exploded. "Easy for you to say! You're not the one locked up in here! Where's the world you promised me?"

"I am working on it," Snape said calmly. "Such changes don't happen overnight."

"You are taking too long," Draco spat. "And I won't sit here doing nothing."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to help me?"

Draco gave him a suspicious look.

"I promise that I will not put you or your parents in danger."

"What do I have to do?" Draco asked readily.

Snape took a moment to examine his options. "I will let you know when it's time."

-----

After lunch, Harry took the Floo to the Burrow. He found Molly and Charlie there; Charlie instantly agreed to take him to Sunderland.

Holding his broomstick in one hand, Harry walked with Charlie outside the Burrow lot, then grasped his arm and Side-Along Apparated with him. Now that he knew how to Apparate himself, the procedure was considerably more comfortable.

They found themselves at the coast outside Sunderland; the sky was grey and miserable, and the waves were violently hitting the rocks beneath them.

"Here you go, Harry," Charlie said. "From here, just use the Four-Point spell and make sure you keep heading eastwards. Shouldn't take long to reach the island on that Firebolt."

Harry nodded, gazing at the distance.

"D'you want me to wait for you here?"

"No, I'll go back to Godric's Hollow on broom. It's only forty miles from here."

"Make sure you don't get lost, eh?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I've got the map you gave us."

"Fine, then." Charlie patted Harry on the shoulder. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Charlie Disapparated, as Harry mounted his broomstick and left to the Azkaban Island.

-----

Once Harry was close enough to the barrier, his broomstick immediately slowed down – the effect of a charm that had been cast on the island. Harry followed the instructions Robards had given him, and soon, an Auror was there to take him to the ground.

After they landed, the Auror accompanied him inside the dark building to the Guests Ward. The door was open and another Auror was standing by it.

"I have an authorisation to see Mundungus Fletcher," he said, showing him the parchment.

The Auror took a quick look at the document, then looked back at Harry. "Your wand, please."

Harry gave it to him, who stuffed it in his belt.

"Enter, please," he said, gesturing towards the room. "Fletcher will be with you in a while." Then, he left, presumably to go get him.

Harry entered the room. It was small, furnished with small iron tables and chairs. He took a seat, crossed his fingers on the table and waited. Soon, the Auror came in the room, dragging Mundungus by the arm. The man was pretty much as Harry remembered him; same long, struggly ginger hair and same bloodshot eyes. He was unshaven and was wearing a grey cloak.

"'Ello, 'Arry," he said feebly.

"Sit here," the Auror said and dropped him to the chair across Harry without much courtesy. "I will be outside," he then addressed Harry. "Don't let the iron bar door fool you, the room is soundproof, and the protection only comes down if one of you shows signs of violent intentions or behaviour." He threw a warning look at Mundungus. "You've got half an hour."

The Auror exited the room, closed the door – the lock momentarily flickered red – and stood outside, resting with his back on it. Harry glanced at him quickly and turned to Mundungus. The man was trying to show a pleasant demeanour, although it seemed that even knowing that an Auror would be there in case Harry tried to attack him did little to reassure him. Truth was, the Aurors weren't particularly fond of him.

"So, Dung," Harry started confidently. "I imagine you have at least a clue about why I'm here."

"Sirius's stuff," Mundungus said.

"Exactly."

"I don't 'ave it anymore -"

"I don't care," Harry cut him harshly. "I only want one thing."

Mundungus kept himself from cowering.

"Did you find a locket at Sirius's house?"

"Locket?"

"A gold locket, hexagon shaped, with Slytherin's snake on it?"

"Slytherin's locket?" Mundungus asked incredulously.

"You know about it?" Harry's voice went up a scale.

"'Course I do! Any self-respected tradesman knows 'bout it. 'S like Hufflepuff's cup."

"You know about that too?"

Mundungus flinched at Harry's shrill voice. "Yeah."

"D'you know where they are?"

Mundungus shook his head. "Nobody does. Last we know, they disappeared from an old witch's 'ouse some fifty years ago. Who knows who's got 'em now. But whoever 'e is, 'e's done a good job 'iding them."

Harry exhaled heavily. "So you didn't find the locket anywhere."

"No."

Harry rubbed his temples tiredly. "It was recently sighted somewhere. I have some ideas as to where it might be. But the cup..." He sighed. "Where could it be? Dung, I need your help with that. You know all about hiding and finding stuff."

"Listen, 'Arry," Mundungus said. "I dunno where it could be, but I can tell ya this: this ain't the kinda stuff that gets lost. If nobody knows where it is, it's because somebody 'as 'idden it very, very well."

"Yeah, but _where?_" Harry banged his fist on the table. "It could be in any cupboard in any home in Britain!"

"Nah," Mundungus said dismissively, "'s not that simple. That stuff's worth thousands o' Galleons, an' ya don't trust it in any cupboard. If I 'ad that cup, I'd make sure to 'ide it at the safest place in the world."

Harry sighed and buried his face in his hands in frustration, until something clicked in his mind.

'The safest place in the world.'

_Hogwarts._

**-End of chapter 14-  
**


	15. Forward Steps

I can't believe how late I am in posting this chapter :-/ First the site's Document Manager was down, then the email alerts weren't working, then I got distracted by other things and kept putting it off... I owe an apology to all my regular readers. Sorry, guys. I promise I have no plans of abandoning this story. It's too dear to me for that. Thanks a lot for your patience.

**Disclaimer: **Same as in the previous chapters.

Thankies: As usual, to Fauzia, José, my Livejournal friends and all my readers and reviewers. :) Oh, and a special shout-out to KeyKeeper12, for catching a detail in the previous chapter. It's been fixed. ;)

Please read and review. All comments are very welcome and appreciated. I accept both signed and anonymous reviews.

-----

**-Chapter 15: Forward steps-**

"Makes perfect sense," Hermione enthused, when Harry explained his theory to Ron and her. "I mean, Hogwarts _is _the safest place in the world. And nobody would ever imagine that Voldemort would hide something so important for him right under Dumbledore's nose."

Ron nodded slowly. "Right. I bet Dumbledore himself didn't believe Voldemort would have the guts to hide a Horcrux in Hogwarts. But the question is, would he _really _have the guts to do it?"

"We know he's had an attachment to Hogwarts," Hermione reasoned. "And several of his Horcruxes were connected to it; even the diary. It fits his way of thinking."

"But would he have had a chance to do it?"

"I thought about that, too," Harry said. "It wouldn't be easy, but he could've found a way. If he already knew of a safe place, and had all his spells and curses planned out, he could have stolen a few minutes to do it – for example, the day he went to see Dumbledore to request the Defence teacher position. He wasn't considered such a threat back then, and let's not forget that he had already managed to trick the Hogwarts staff once with the Chamber of Secrets."

"Or, he could have had an accomplice," Hermione added. "Like when he possessed Quirrell in order to get to the Philosopher's Stone."

Ron was looking very thoughtful now. "Harry, you don't think the Horcrux could be in the Chamber of Secrets?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. He wouldn't have a Horcrux lead to another one. It would be risky. Besides, the Chamber of Secrets was pretty much an empty room when I went there."

Hermione and Ron nodded.

"I think we should consider searching at Hogwarts," Harry insisted. "If not the cup, maybe the Horcrux we don't know about will be there."

"Actually," Hermione interjected, "I have an idea about the Horcrux we don't know about."

The boys turned to her.

"I just finished Rowena Ravenclaw's biography. There don't seem to exist any known relics of hers, but the book says she was buried wearing her blue and bronze Hogwarts robes and her tiara."

"So what are you suggesting, that Voldemort unearthed her and turned her tiara to a Horcrux?" Ron asked.

"Wouldn't put it past him," Harry spat.

"She's buried in Drumnadrochit, her hometown," Hermione said. "We could go take a look there."

"And what will we tell the guards? 'Excuse us, could we please unearth Miss Ravenclaw for a little bit?'" Ron mocked.

"OK, OK," Harry interrupted, "first things first. We still haven't found the locket. And after that, we're going for Hufflepuff's cup, which we are _sure _is a Horcrux."

"Hogwarts is huge, though," Hermione said thoughtfully. "And there's the Forbidden Forest, too. There must be a million hiding places in the whole lot."

"There are two people who can help us with that," Harry said confidently.

"Who?"

"Hagrid, and Lupin."

-----

The fireplace in the house of Bill and Fleur Weasley was open for Remus Lupin. That evening, he decided he would stop by for a visit. He found Fleur in the living room, dusting a vase.

"Remus!" she called, upon seeing him. After the wedding, she had dropped 'Monsieur' when addressing him. "Good to see you!" She walked over to him and kissed him on both cheeks. "Bill left yesterday, and 'e will not be back until next week."

"Yeah, I know," Remus said, slightly overwhelmed. Fleur's quick and cheerful manner of talking did that to him. "I came to see you. Is this a bad time?"

"No, not at all!" she chirped, carelessly waving the dust feather. "I was just dusting. These bibelots are lovely, but they gather so much dust! Do you want some tea?"

"Sure."

"Sit 'ere, if you want." She gestured to the lime green sofa. The room – or rather, the entire house – was very bright and colourful. Fleur had wanted to follow the latest trends with the decoration. Surprisingly enough, the lime green sofa, the bright yellow wall and the fuchsia vases on the shelves, combined with the rest of furniture, paintings and curios in various, brighter or more neutral colours, not only didn't clash, but actually looked good all together – although Remus wasn't sure how Bill felt about living in there. Then again, with a woman like Fleur in the house, he probably wasn't paying much attention to the rest of his surroundings anyway.

Remus sat down, his eyes wandering around the room as Fleur went to the kitchen, which was separated from the living room with an island.

"So," she called, taking the teapot and teabags out of the cupboard, "what did you want to see me for?"

"I wanted to ask you something," he started with uncertainty.

She filled the teapot with water, then warmed it up with a spell. "Yes?" she said, throwing him a look over the island.

"I was wondering how you feel about Bill spending all this time with the werewolves."

She frowned. "Why? Has 'e complained to you about me?" She dipped a teabag in the teapot.

"No, no, quite the opposite. He says you're very understanding and supportive, and you're fine with him staying away from home sometimes."

She smiled and brushed a strand of silvery-blond hair away from her face. "Zat ees exactly what I do." She reached for a tray and two teacups.

"But things are very dangerous over there! Bill doesn't fit in with them as well as a full werewolf would, and many of the werewolves hate normal people. Besides, he comes from a family famous for fighting against Voldemort."

"I know." She smiled, understanding where he was getting to.

"And you're not worried about him?"

Fleur's smile remained. Instead of replying, however, she waited for the tea to be ready, then served some in each teacup and walked over to Remus. She sat beside him in the sofa and gave him his cup.

"Remus," she said kindly, taking her own cup, "you are making the same mistake you made with Tonks."

"That's not the mistake I made with Tonks," Remus mumbled.

"One of them," Fleur rectified.

Remus sighed and sipped some tea.

"You theenk we love our men because we ignore ze problems they face. But this is not ze case, Remus. We know all about ze problems. But we don't let zat stop us."

"In other words, you don't care."

"Exactly."

"I'm sick of hearing that."

"Which is why I did not put it like zat," Fleur said with a grin. "My point ees, Remus, yes, I am worried. I am as worried as Tonks was when it was _you _staying with the werewolves. But I can see zat this is a risk zat must be taken. And I will not stop loving Bill because 'e has to take it. You know, Remus, I was zere when 'Arry announced to ze world that Lord Voldemort was back. I believed 'im ze moment I saw Cedric's dead body. But I decided to go on with the plans I had made and come to Britain anyway, because life does not end when an obstacle appears in your way. And there 'ave been many obstacles in my way since then, but you see? After everytheeng zat 'as 'appened, I am 'ere, and I am 'appy."

"How can you be happy knowing that the one you love is in danger?"

"I am 'appy because I know my husband is brave, he is fighting for a good cause, and ze world will be a better place when everytheeng is over. Besides, Remus, we can never be too safe from danger, and it does not take a war for something bad to happen to someone. But this does not mean we cannot live our lives!"

Remus sighed. "That's why I keep telling Bill it should be me in his place -"

"Now, now," Fleur interrupted him. "You are reaching ze ozer end. When I say we must take risks, I mean ones we can 'andle. I can 'andle Bill. Tonks can 'andle you. Bill can 'andle ze werewolves. You could 'andle ze werewolves in ze past, but now you cannot, which is why this risk was taken away from you."

Remus shook his head in defeat and took another sip of his tea.

"Bill and I are doing fine, I assure you. And although I worry zat sometheeng bad might 'appen to him, I know zat 'e has been dealing fine with the other werewolves. No offence, but Molly told me ze ozer day zat Bill 'as made more progress with the werewolves in one month than you made in one year."

"He's very charismatic," Remus admitted.

"Oh, indeed 'e is," Fleur said proudly. "He is winning zem over quickly. Maybe it was for ze best that 'e ended up zere, after all."

"If you look at it that way," Remus said with a shrug.

Fleur nodded. "So, instead of worrying about my relationship with Bill, how about you worry about your relationship with Tonks instead?"

Remus stared at the young woman in disbelief. "Will there always be a Mrs Weasley bugging me about my relationship with Tonks?"

Fleur smiled mischievously. "Eef eet ees necessary."

-----

Things were going very well at the werewolf community for Bill. Not only had he managed to get closer to the three leaders, but he was also approaching the rest of the werewolves as well. His natural talent at socialising, combined with his confident attitude, easy personality, the advice from Remus and a little bit of acting, were earning him the respect of the others and, although they always used to look at new arrivals with distrust, they were gradually accepting him into their small groups.

He trod carefully, dropping hints about fighting against Voldemort or getting in touch with humans whenever he thought it wise, and by now, a slight change at the neutral party's mentality could be observed. Several of the werewolves were having positive thoughts about the prospect of mingling with humans – although it was very early yet, and Bill was careful not to show that he was pressuring them towards that direction.

Preferring to affect the group mentality as a whole, rather than convert individuals, he measured carefully exactly how much time he needed to spend with everyone – too little wouldn't make a difference, but too much would derail him from his track. By now, he had learned to understand the werewolves' closed minds and planned his tactics according to the vibes he was gathering from them.

Right now, he was sitting by a fire in the back of the farthest cave. Near him was a young girl, Sophie. She was a lonely woman, always sitting alone or silently watching other people conversing. By the way she had been behaving towards him, however, he was strongly suspecting she fancied him – which was all the more convenient for him, of course.

He stared intently at the fire, faking grimness. He knew that, if she saw him like this, she'd approach him sooner or later. Which indeed, she did.

"Hey," she said, scooting closer.

"Hey."

"What's wrong?"

He shrugged.

"Missing your wife?"

"Yeah..." he said, not taking his eyes off the fire. "I just saw her yesterday, but, you know... she's my wife."

Sophie nodded. "She must be a great woman."

"She is," Bill said and turned to her. "You'd make great friends with her. In fact, I know many people you'd make great friends with."

"It's been such a long time, I don't remember what it's like to have a friend anymore," she said bitterly. "Or to _be _a friend, at that."

"But after all this time, you haven't made a single friend here?"

She shook her head sadly. "Oh, Bill, you must have noticed by now that werewolves don't just welcome you into their group. It's up to you to approach them. And when you're shy and introverted like me, you never find it in yourself to. So..." She shrugged.

"And what about your other friends? You surely had some!"

"Yeah," she said, staring at the fire. Her brown hair seemed almost auburn as the light of the fire reflected on it. "I had my two best friends from Hogwarts. And my mum..." She sniffed. "I haven't seen them in six years... who knows if they even remember me."

"Of course they do, Sophie. Why wouldn't they? What happened when you got bitten?"

"You know... People just... started avoiding me."

"Them too?"

"No, of course not." She wiped a tear from her eye. "But the others... neighbours, acquaintances... I couldn't find a job anywhere. And in the end I just couldn't take it anymore."

"And what did they do when you decided to leave?"

"They tried to keep me there, but... I couldn't handle it, you know? I was just out of Hogwarts, about to start my life, and... that man bit me, and everything was suddenly falling apart! It's not fair..."

Tears started to roll from her eyes. Bill scooted closer and let her cry on his shoulder, gently stroking her hair, his heartbeat quickening with anger. That was what discrimination did to people, keeping them at the margin, away from their loved ones. It had to stop.

"You have people out there who care about you," he said softly. "If there's nothing to keep you here, why don't you go back?"

She wiped her eyes, pulled away from his embrace and looked at him intensely. "You have people out there who care about you. Why did you come here?"

Bill shifted awkwardly. "I just... wanted to get in touch with the other side of myself," he lied. "I feel I need the werewolves' company just as much as I need the company of the others. But you, can you say the same about yourself?"

"I may not have friends here, but at least everyone accepts me for who I am. Nobody's commenting behind my back."

"But you're not happy, Sophie. Listen, out there you have your mum and your friends. And there are so many other people who would love to get close to you and help you get back in track."

"That can't be done."

"Of course it can! Don't you remember Remus Lupin?"

Sophie looked at Bill sceptically. "You were not here yet when he left."

"No, but I know him. We've become friends. He's got a life outside now. An occupation, people who care for him, and even a girlfriend. You can find your way just like he did."

The brown-haired girl was still doubtful. Bill could tell she wanted to believe him, but was afraid of getting hurt again.

"Look, I'm going back home next week, and you'll come with me, OK? I promise you I'll help you get back the life that was taken away from you." He took her hand. "Trust me."

Sophie took a moment to contemplate it, then eventually let go of her doubts and gave Bill a small smile.

-----

The next morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione said goodbye to Mrs Fairweather. The old lady refused to accept any kind of payment from the three teenagers; she only asked them that, if their way brought them back to Godric's Hollow someday, they would stop by for a game of Black Nicholas with her.

They agreed and mounted their broomsticks heading to the Hole of the Unwanted, which was located in Sunderland. The trip wasn't long, although the cloudy and windy weather didn't make it any pleasant.

The three teenagers had already got directions on how to find it; the morning after they had decided they would need to visit it, Harry had waken up early enough to wait for the Collector and ask for directions. It was exactly in the middle of the city, a square lot that looked like an empty construction yard with a small building in the middle.

They found it easily, landed in the yard, walked to the building and knocked on the door. A young, blond man dressed in a dark grey uniform opened the door. Harry thought he looked familiar, and, with a little effort, he recognised him as an older Hogwarts student, perhaps from five or six years ago.

"Yes?" he said snidely, after taking a momentary look at Harry's scar. Harry was intensely reminded of Draco Malfoy.

"We are looking for something," Harry said. "May we?"

The blonde sneered and opened the door. The three teenagers walked in the room. There was another guard inside, an older, dark-haired man. In the middle of the room was a big, round hole.

"You say you're looking for something?" the blonde asked.

"Yes. A hexagon-shaped gold locket. Did you happen to see it?"

The blonde sneered again. "Do you expect me to remember every piece of garbage that gets in here?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Can we look for it in there, then?"

The blonde gave a mocking laugh. "If you manage to find it, it's yours."

Harry threw him an annoyed look and walked over to the edge of the Hole with Ron and Hermione by his sides. He looked down inside it; there were piles of garbage in it. As Ron had explained to him, this Hole was an endless pit. Everything stayed in there, albeit getting deeper and deeper with every piece of garbage that was thrown in. Technically, you could find anything that had ever been thrown inside, if your magic was strong enough.

Harry stretched out his hand, holding his wand right above the hole, closed his eyes and concentrated hard for a minute, then said loudly and clearly "Accio Slytherin's locket."

Nothing happened. No movement at all was visible in the hole.

"What if we tried to say it all together?" Hermione suggested.

Deciding that it couldn't hurt their chances, the three teenagers joined the tips of their wands, and, counting to three, repeated the spell.

Again, nothing. Disappointed, Harry turned away from the hole. His eyes fell to the blonde... who seemed to have paled, and was looking at the three of them with an expression of mild shock.

Harry watched the blonde, wondering why he was looking at them like that, until it dawned on him. "You," he told the blonde. "_You_'ve got it."

"Me? What are you talking -"

"You've got it!" he yelled, pointing his wand towards the blonde. "Where is it?"

"Man, are you -"

"WHERE IS IT?" Harry repeated, pressing the blonde against the wall, the tip of Harry's wand on the blonde's throat.

"I swear, I didn't know it was Slytherin's locket!" the blonde said, trembling in fear.

"WHAT DID YOU DO WITH IT?"

"I sold it..."

"TO WHOM?"

"Stop yelling!"

Harry stepped back from the blonde and threw him a disdainful look. The blonde dusted himself. A few feet away from the two boys, Ron, Hermione and the other guard were watching the scene without making any attempts to interfere. The guard had wanted to help his colleague at first, but after the two teenagers had held him back, he hadn't insisted. Apparently, something big was going on here – especially if Harry Potter himself was involved in it.

"I sold it at an antique shop at Hogsmeade," the blonde said eventually. "Alton's Antiquities."

"Good," Harry spat. "Come on," he gestured to Ron and Hermione, "let's get away from here."

The three teenagers exited the building, closing the door behind them.

"You sure scared that bloke," Ron said with a snicker.

"I couldn't stand to lose that locket again," Harry said. "It cost Dumbledore his life."

Oblivious to the other two's sympathetic looks on him, Harry turned to study the sky, examining his options. It was still windy, but it didn't look like it was going to rain. They could make it to Hogsmeade, and maybe they could spend the rest of the day there...

"Are we going there now?" Hermione asked, forcing him to voice his thoughts.

Harry pulled out of his jacket's pocket Charlie's map and consulted it. "If we fly on a straight route, it's about three hours' distance," he calculated, keeping in mind that they'd fly a bit slower than usual because of the wind. "We'll have to fly over the sea, though."

Hermione shuddered at the thought, but managed to shove it away. "I guess it's no different than flying over land."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"You'll tell us if you get nauseous, all right?"

"Yeah." She sighed. "I can't wait until you two get your Apparition licences."

"Why don't you Apparate to Hogsmeade, and we'll meet you there?" Ron suggested. "Harry and I can fly much more quickly if you're not with us... I mean, because your broomstick is slow," he added, realising he had probably sounded a little offensive.

Hermione was torn between sticking with her friends and following Ron's, admittedly easier for her, suggestion. It _would _save them time, after all...

"No, never mind," she eventually decided. "I'm coming with you. We're in this together, aren't we?"

Harry smiled at her. "Let's go, then."

They mounted their broomsticks and left, heading northwards.

**-End of chapter 15-**


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